In Federal Custody
by Slug's bay
Summary: Tony recalls his life during his first day in custody. COMPLETE
1. Chapter One

Grey floor matched drab grey ceiling, broken by countless rows of white cages. Which would he be thrown into? At present all stood unoccupied. Deep silence broken by three footsteps, two guards and their prisoner. Progress was slow as the prisoner was clearly exhausted. Another white steel door loomed ahead. The guard on the right swiped his access card through the slot and pulled it noiselessly open. They continued further into the labyrinth. This corridor mirrored the previous one in exact detail, ending in yet another locked steel door.

Years of military training followed by intelligence work failed to prevent a sudden rise of panic as the previous door clanged shut. They just helped him push it aside. He took a few deeper breaths, clenched and unclenched his fists and raised his head. His eyes focused on the distant door. Neither guard had noticed his fear, something for which he remained grateful.

They stopped just less than half way along this corridor. The guard's stern order 'halt' snapped his focus and he blinked to remind himself where he was. The second guard drew a card and ran it through the slot. A white door opened a few inches. He pushed it open wider. The guard on his right pushed his arm firmly. 'Get inside'.

One guard stepped inside with him while the second waited outside. His eyes never left the prisoner. 'As though I was some homicidal killer' Tony thought wryly. He held his hands out and watched the first guard unlock his cuffs. His fingers rubbed the cold steel's feeling off his wrists.

'Face the wall' ordered the guard. Tony took three steps to the back of the cell and leaned against the wall. 'Hands behind your back.' Once again he complied, wanting only to rest alone. He heard the door opening, footsteps leading outside and the door clanging shut.

Slowly he turned and surveyed his surroundings. First he moved towards the door and watched his guards leave the corridor. The block door clanged shut and utter silence descended. Inside his cell was empty with the exception of a grey plastic chair, a toilet with a washbasin, and opposite these a bed. Its grey blanket matched the floor.

Tony rubbed the side of his head in a vain attempt to ease his exhaustion. A long sigh escaped him and he almost stumbled to the bed. He sat on it, removed his shoes and trousers and drew back the sheet. He no longer had the strength to remove his t-shirt. What time could it be? Processing had taken all afternoon, followed by a trip to medical. A lengthy wait in both places drew out the entire procedure. Countless forms waited to be filled out. A little like entering the army, he remembered.

He had answered every question quietly as they were asked for the first three forms, occasionally rubbing the side of his face to relax. Though of various colours and fonts, all forms contained identical biographical details. There had been two white ones and a yellow one. Name, parents' names, mother's maiden name, date of birth, parents' dates of birth, location of all these births…address and all previous addresses, work places, trips overseas… the list was endless. All of which could easily be requested from CTU, leaving him free to get some much needed sleep and the admissions officer the chance to fill the forms in quicker. Rules, however, stipulated that the prisoner supply such details personally, so there they had both sat, facing each other as the afternoon dragged on.

'Name' the admissions officer demanded impatiently. Tony realized with a start that he had been daydreaming. There was now an open purple form on the table. He allowed a faint groan to escape.

'We already covered this.' He looked pleadingly at the officer. 'Don't you have enough to fill this in?'

The officer's expression shifted slightly from boredom to irritation. He tapped his pen against the table. 'Name' he repeated louder. At the door the guard watching him shifted slightly.

Tony rubbed his head harder and repeated his name yet again. Question and answer began anew. There was no longer any need for his full attention so he allowed part of his mind to wander. The day's events circulated relentlessly. Cooking Michelle's favourite breakfast early and waking her with a soft kiss. Getting shot, waking up in hospital. Seeing Nina again, hearing her sarcastic comments, squabbling with Michelle, discovering she was exposed to the virus at the hotel, then hearing she was safe. Safe by some miracle. Deciding never, ever to let her near danger again. Receiving Saunders' phone call just as he'd decided to keep her safe forever. The goodbye kiss he gave her. His thoughts had been interrupted by the officer's hand slammed against the table.

'Place of birth?' he almost hissed.

'We already had that in here' Tony protested weakly.

'Section C –"place of birth if different from state of admission" Now this here is L.A. California and you weren't born here, so……'

'Chicago' he answered for at least the fifth time. The admissions officer appeared satisfied and proceeded to fill in section C.

Tony's headache steadily worsened. His neck began to throb. Of course, the painkillers he'd received from the hospital sat forgotten in his desk back in his office. Former office, he reminded himself. He asked for something for the pain but was ordered to wait. Medical would take care of that just as soon as admission was completed. There remained only one short form. This last form was spread open and the officer glanced up at him with the same blank expression they'd begun with.

'Almeida' Tony said, without bothering to wait for the inevitable question.

The officer laid his pen on the table and closed the form. Tony blinked in confusion. Never in all his years of dealing with bureaucrats had he experienced one that voluntarily laid aside a meaningless form. He didn't that time either.

'Now Almeida' he began in his monotonous tone 'you're the one who wants to get this process completed and get to medical – not me! If I have to stay here overtime it's fine by me – I'll get my roster day off sooner.' He fell silent. For a long moment neither spoke. Tony's neck throbbed harder.

'I'm sorry' Tony broke the silence. He really needed to get rid of this horrible pain. If it meant apologizing to this android then he would.

The officer finally nodded his head and opened the form. 'Surname' he read. 'Given names'. Tony was sorely tempted to give a sarcastic reply but he remembered the last time he'd done so in the army and the resulting punishment. Time dragged. After this final form he was photographed and finger printed.

'Ok, we're done' the admissions officer said. The guard moved over to Tony and withdrew a pair of handcuffs. He put his hands together and stood when ordered. Medical was down the other end of the admissions hall behind its own locked steel door. Now for his painkiller.

Just because a prisoner in pain sat in medical it wasn't guaranteed he'd be examined or treated as he discovered to his dismay. His guard opened a door and a similar bureaucratic officer informed him that the admitting doctor was occupied presently. He was led to a small holding cell where his cuffs were removed. He was told to wait till the doctor had time to see him. He asked for something for the pain but the guard only shook his head as he left the room. So he'd sat down on a chair and put his head in his hands on the table. He breathed deeply through the pain. Not the first time he'd waited sick and in pain for a doctor who was busy.

He never found out how long it was before another guard returned and ordered him to move. He was led into an examining room much like a normal doctor's surgery in the suburbs and ordered to undress and lie on the examining table. A middle aged doctor entered and glanced at his file. After a minute he walked over to Tony listening to his ragged breathing.

'When was the last time you took something for that?' he asked. Tony told him he'd been given something at the hospital but was arrested before he'd needed to take anything. The doctor counted the hours and looked at him compassionately. 'I'll get you something in a sec' he said kindly and went to get a syringe. 'It won't hurt' he said as Tony stared uneasily. It had, of course, but only momentarily and he soon felt the pain recede. The doctor examined him and pronounced him fine though weak. He prescribed strong painkillers for Tony and filled in a few forms while he slowly got dressed. Then the two guards had arrived to escort him to his cell until his bail hearing.

'Yeah, a hell of a day' Tony muttered as he pulled the grey blanket over himself. There was no way to turn off the light in his cell but he was exhausted enough to fall asleep anywhere by now.

He awoke a couple of hours later. Where the hell was he? White bars, grey floor… 'Oh God' Tony whispered as he remembered the last few hours. 'Oh God…. it's all

real.' This nightmare was his reality now. His neck throbbed again. He sat up, pushing aside the grey blanket and pulled on his trousers. Sometime while he'd been asleep the cell and corridor lights were dimmed. He washed his face and waited for the guard to patrol the corridor again. When he came Tony asked for a painkiller. The guard said he'd see what was written in his notes. Soon he returned with a tablet and a glass of water. They were pushed through the bars.

'Thanks' Tony said gratefully. The guard nodded and waited for the cup. Tony passed it back through the bars. He was fully awake now. Never had he missed Michelle more. Hopefully she was home sleeping. Tears came dangerously close forcing him to blink. He really needed some contact with her. 'Could I have some paper and a pen please?' he asked. He would write exactly how much he missed her.

The guard shook his head. 'I'm not authorized to bring anything' he said. 'Only the block supervisor can do that. He'll look in sometime in the morning.'

Tony sighed in frustration. Where had he sunk to? Forced to ask permission to write a letter! Forced to answer every meaningless question addressed to him! Moved around at others' whims in handcuffs! Not knowing when his bail hearing was set! Nobody had notified him so far. He would ask that block supervisor tomorrow. Restlessness set in. Tony paced up and down rubbing his face.

A thousand thoughts crossed his mind. What happened to Michelle after he was hauled away? She'd been so devastated. Had she gone home to an empty house? Was there anyone to help her? And oh God, did his parents know yet? They were such a close family - this would destroy them. That final thought paused him in his tracks, in the middle of the cell. Not a week went by without his visiting them.

Tony was certain he would be sentenced to long years of imprisonment. No one in the world could condone what he'd done yesterday. Unease crept upon him, growing stronger. How could he live in a cell this size? So far he had peace and quiet surrounding him. Could he cope with a tiny cell and hearing dozens of cursing voices all around him? He'd seemed so sure when he'd spoken to Michelle, but now the thought terrified him.

'Please God let them grant me bail' Tony prayed. He couldn't face being locked in here for months awaiting a trial date. 'At least give me a couple of months to sort things out'. So many small jobs awaited him at home. They'd bought a house just a few months ago, large and light, but old and in need of maintenance. It had been too tempting to fill the cool box with lunch and drink and head off to the beach with Michelle instead. After all, he had all the time in the world to fix the guest room's handle that tended to get stuck in the locked position. The leaking toilet was also next week's job. Of course there were tasks outside too, more than inside if possible. Overgrown paths to weed, trees and bushes to trim, and fruit trees to prune. He buried his head in his hands again. 'I'd fix it all, God' he prayed. 'It's not Michelle's responsibility, it's mine. Let me make her a nice home. Please let me out'.

He splashed more water on his face. His fingers were wet; he wiped them on his trousers. Outside the guard passed down the corridor glancing at him. Tony stared back until he passed then returned to a corner of the cell and sank slowly down. He couldn't sleep. Neither could he bear the sight of all the bars. Once again he buried his head in his arms. If he concentrated hard enough he could 'see' Michelle sleeping, her chest rising and falling. His fingers reached out slowly to touch her but brushed cold brick instead. He glanced at the wall in despair, turning his head rapidly and getting a view of the bars at the front. This time there was no holding the tears back. Sobs racked his body.

What seemed like hours later a peace settled over him. Tony rose to his feet and rinsed his face. He slowly made his way over to the bed. He curled under the blanket seeking its warmth. Within moments he slept.

The block supervisor came shortly after he'd picked through his breakfast. Tony stood up and went to the front of his cell. A man in his forties, accustomed to years of identical questions from new prisoners.

'When is my bail hearing set?' Tony inquired politely. There was little reason to make an enemy of this man.

'Tomorrow at 10.00 a.m.' replied the guard. 'I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. Never known anyone on a treason charge to get bail'.

A minute passed in silence as the full implications sank in. Without bail he'd be stuck here. He drew a deep breath. Now was not the time to get distressed. He faced the guard again. 'Could I have some paper and a pen? I really need to write to my wife.'

The block supervisor shook his head. 'Request denied' he said flatly. 'Prisoners awaiting bail hearings remain ineligible for any materials'.

Anger spread through Tony. His fists clenched. He drew a deep breath and asked as calmly as he could 'what am I supposed to do here all day?'

'Think about what you did to get here' replied the block supervisor. He gave Tony a hard stare before turning to leave.

It took several deep breaths to calm himself this time. Tony moved back to the corner he'd sat in last night. 'Why the hell did I ever want to be a federal agent?' he asked himself. 'When did I decide that?' Certainly not when he was very young. He had been going to serve on the Enterprise then, like all his friends. A faint smile crept across his face as he remembered.


	2. Chapter Two

'Looks like it's just us today' Jason said as Tony joined him. I'm glad you came. How long can you stay?'

'A while' Tony replied vaguely. He intended to stay until someone needed him for something. Hopefully he could see Jason's latest star trek figures today. 'Can we play with your starship?'

'Yep' Jason agreed. He and Tony were friends at school. 'Did you bring your Mr. Spock?'

'No, I'll go get him' Tony grinned. Today would be great, he could already feel it. As

their other friends were sick he would have first pick of whichever figures he wanted, except for Captain Kirk. Jason always played with that. He wished yet again that his

mother would buy him more figures but she always said no, there were more important things to get. He raced across the quiet street to his own home and upstairs to the room he shared with Marco. Now where had he left Mr. Spock? Not on the bookshelf, not in the toy-box and not under the bed. Tony frowned in annoyance.

Voices reached him down the hall from the girls' room. He'd ask Jane. She could usually find missing toys.

Tony pushed open the door and almost fell over a Barbie carriage. He grabbed the frame to steady himself. Jane and Marco sat on the floor. A pile of Barbie clothes lay all around his sister. Marco held Mr. Spock, stripping his uniform.

'Hey' Tony yelled, snatching him from his brother. 'Did I say you could play with this?' He hit Marco with the toy.

Marco rubbed his head. 'No, but Janey did.'

He turned to frown at her. Jane smiled sweetly. 'Oh Tony, Barbie's getting married today. She's got her dress and I've almost done her hair – just… there was no husband.'

'Well, you're going to have to find her someone else,' he said.

Jane sniffed, so he made a hasty exit. Downstairs his mother sat writing a letter to some distant relative while his little sisters played in a wading pool. The baby slept in the pram oblivious to their squeals. He slipped past them all and closed the gate.

Jason already had all the figures out in his garden. They divided the figures between them. Soon enough they'd set up a battle situation.

'Tony' Marco called through the gate. 'It's lunch time'. Tony groaned. Every time a game was organized he was disturbed.

'I won't be long' he promised.

Tony's mother looked at him crossly as she set his plate on the table. 'Here it comes' he thought, and sure enough, she asked him the same question as the previous time he'd gone to play with Jason without letting her know. He promised faithfully he'd ask her first next time. 'Yes Tony, you will. I won't have my children wandering all over the place, and me searching everywhere. Next time you'll be grounded for a week!'

She really means it, Tony thought. Better ask about the afternoon. 'Could I go back to play after this?'

'Well no, Tony. I have some shopping to do and I need someone here with Jane and Marco. Play with them till I get back. You can go play with Jason later.'

After lunch the little girls and Bobby – the latest baby- were piled into the car. Tony and Jane cleaned the table. Marco answered a knock on the door.

'Hi Tony' Jason said, grabbing a glass of juice. 'You didn't come back'.

'I can't. I got to play with these two. But you could stay.' Jason brought all his figures over to Tony's garden and they set up the game again. He firmly denied Jane's request for Barbie to join in.

'Alright, now, that's the ocean, and the Klingons are just coming. Where's the captain?' They both looked around.

'Hang on a sec,' Tony exclaimed. 'Jane!' She stared at him slowly and began to cry. 'Look, honey, ok, you can come play too.'

'Jason, there's two boys outside your house looking for you' Marco reported. They all peered over the gate. Tony recognized the new comes as Tom and Paul from school. One was a bully who'd given him grief since kindergarten. They were friends of Jason. Trouble followed their every step. It would be wise to ignore them and let them leave, but Jason had already called them over.

'We got to do some stuff for mom,' Tony said. 'You go play if you like.'

'Don't go yet, Tony', Marco whined. He insisted on playing longer, cheerfully reminding Tony that this time their mother in fact had not left any tasks to complete. 'Kids' Tony thought in disgust. He sighed and said they could play a few minutes longer.

Tom held an empty coke bottle in his hand. He spun it round on the driveway. For a moment all the children watched it spin. 'Hey wait' Jason said. 'Why don't we spin it again, and whoever it points to has to take a dare.' This was met with a happy chorus of 'yeah, lets'.

'Great,' Tony thought. He would have to play now and hope nothing too dangerous came his way. Everyone settled on the warm paving. Paul spun the bottle. It pointed to Marco. He looked thrilled. 'Look he's just a little kid, guys. Take it easy, right!'

'Ok' said Paul. 'I'll give the first dare, coz I'm ten and the rest of you guys are just nine.' He turned to Marco. 'You got to take that old banana and put it in that letter-box.' This was met with merry laughter. Marco got up and took the banana and coaxed it inside the neighbour's mail-box. He rushed back to the waiting children. Tony laughed till his sides ached.

Marco spun the bottle. All watched as it spun rapidly, the sun's reflection hurting their eyes. It was slowing too fast, Tony thought grimly. Yes, of course he'd guessed right. It pointed directly at him!

'Looks like it's your turn, Tony' Paul said. 'Now then, what can we find for you? Who's the nastiest guy on the street?'

'Easy' said Jason. 'Old Mr. Jones in number 3. He was born grumpy. If anyone even parks next to his verge he turns the sprinklers on!'

'Ok, sounds like our guy. Tony, you'll go to his door and ring his bell loudly. And turn the sprinklers on, too!' Marco gave a squeal of laughter. 'And we'll go hide and watch. Just to make sure you don't wriggle out of this one. It wouldn't be the first time.'

'I don't wriggle out of things,' Tony retorted indignantly, delaying his task.

'Well, how come you never get asked any questions about homework you didn't do, and the rest of us always do?' Paul said. The other two boys nodded. 'Yeah, he's got a method alright. Coz I know he hasn't done any math last week,' Jason said. 'Couldn't copy from him.'

'Look guys, I just use my brains, see' said Tony. 'I'm not stupid. The less you know about the homework the closer to the front you sit. If you haven't even opened the book, then you sit straight in front of the teacher's desk and look him in the eye. He'll NEVER ask you!'

'That works?' asked Tom.

'Always has for me' grinned Tony.

'Listen Tony, do your math next week though,' said Tom. 'Coz if you don't, then Jason can't copy from you before school, and then Paul and I can't copy from Jason at the beginning of the lesson and we get a note home.'

'What are you waiting for?' Paul asked.

'Listen guys, I can either ring the bell or press the sprinklers on' said Tony. 'I can't do both. He'll kill me'

'Tony's scared' said Paul softly. 'A real chicken.' He shook his head vigorously and simply pointed out the impossibility of being in two places at once. 'Don't be hopeless, press the bell with one hand and the green 'on' button with the other. Then run. Come on; let's get a good hiding spot.'

Tony sat in the deserted garden and watched the other children settle into some bushes directly across the road from number 3. His heart beat fast and sweat trickled down his face. If only his mother would return now and demand help unloading the car. Unfortunately the street remained deserted. Unable to delay any longer he walked slowly up the sidewalk, past the hidden children. He pressed Jane further into the bush and pushed Marco down. 'Now Janey, don't giggle till he's gone back inside' he warned. 'And neither of you move. Ok?' He made them repeat his instructions. They were his responsibility right now.

He couldn't help stealing a final glance up the road but no car was to be seen. He had one last hope left. Maybe old Mr. Jones would be out. Not that he ever appeared to do so, but surely he had to go out sometime. Tony crossed the road and walked up the path. He heard faint giggles from the hidden children. Another few steps brought the sound of a radio – some news station. He peeped silently into the front room. Mr. Jones sat right there almost facing the door. 'Why would I ever have things easy' he groaned. There would be no chance to turn the sprinklers on, yet he had to. Every child in the class would laugh at him tomorrow if he didn't. He paused to consider his options in the doorway, out of direct view of the front room window. Directly across the driveway was a large tree. He could hide there; wait for Mr. Jones to start searching, and at the first possible moment return to switch on the sprinklers.

He took a final breath and pressed the bell. It rang loudly, making him jump. There were no footsteps. He pressed the bell again, showing off to the hidden children. Unmistakable footsteps sounded now. He rushed across the driveway and hid behind a large leafy branch as the door opened.

'Who's there?' demanded an irritated man just past retirement age. He walked a bit further out. 'Damn kids,' he yelled louder. 'Always dropping your rubbish on my lawn and damaging my sprinklers. I'll teach you a lesson. Where are you?'

He started across the driveway and peered straight at the tree. Tony's heart threatened to jump right out of his body. He pressed further among the leaves and remained undetected. Mr. Jones locked his front door and walked round the other side of the garden and round the side of the house. Tony forced himself to move, jump noiselessly to the ground and across the driveway. He reached the door again, and pressed the reticulation button on. Instantly a low rumbling sound filled the garden as the sprinklers came to life. He turned and ran. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mr. Jones getting drenched, still shouting. He ran faster.

He didn't stop till he turned the street corner and then walked round the block panting. He settled cautiously in his own back garden. It seemed a long while before the other children felt safe enough to venture out.

They stared at him in awe. Jane and Marco's face showed pride, while the boys showed a new respect. 'Wow, Tony, that was the coolest thing I've ever seen' Jason told him. 'I'll go get the bottle now'.

'Don't let's play anymore' Jane begged.

Tony slipped his arm around her. 'Why don't you go continue your game upstairs? I'll just take my turn spinning the bottle and then we'll stop.' He spun the bottle slowly, watching it stop at his intended target, directly in front of Paul. Years of being teased came back to him. 'Your turn Paul,' he said, staring challengingly into his eyes. 'You're not scared of dogs, are you?'

For the first time since they'd met at kindergarten years ago, Paul looked uncertain. 'Hell no,' he boasted. 'I'm not afraid of anything.'

'Stop it here, Tony' he thought to himself. This has gone far enough. He opened his mouth to tell the others he had no more time to play. Paul beat him to it.

'I'm not a chicken like Tony. I've got guts.'

Anger flared through Tony. 'We'll see' he heard himself saying. 'See that apple tree next door? Pick me one and come back. Just ignore the dog.'

They all moved towards the fence. Tony dragged their ladder right up against it. Paul looked ready to cry. He climbed up, sat on the fence, dropped into next door's garden and out rushed the dog. He flattened himself against the fence. The dog growled its hackles up. Every time the boy moved he growled louder. 'Help guys' Paul sobbed.

'Tony, help him' Marco said. 'Get him out'. But he couldn't. Paul had never needed help before. Tony swallowed hard and tried to think what to do. This was his fault – he had to undo it somehow.

'You guys stay on the ladder' he said to Jason and Tom. 'I'll go distract the dog for a sec, and you pull him up.'

He rushed through the garden and across to the neighbors. He moved noisily to the gate rattling it. 'Robber' he called the dog. The animal paid him no attention. He opened the gate a fraction. Still no reaction from the dog.

'It's no use, Tony, he's happy with Paul' Jason told him. Tony closed the gate and returned to his friends. He picked up a ball and threw it across but this first time the dog ignored that too. He stayed put, growling.

'Now what?' Tony wandered. A sudden thought came to him. His mother had mentioned something about the neighbors being away for three days. He couldn't leave Paul there that long. Even he didn't deserve that.

'Tony, Papa's home,' Marco yelled gladly, and raced for the car. Relief and despair rushed through him.

'What's happening here?' his father demanded, Marco pulling him by the hand. Everyone spoke at once. He held up a hand. 'One at a time. Tony?'

'Paul's stuck and Robber won't let him go. He won't come to the gate.'

Tony's father peered over the fence. 'I'll go get the dog. You boys pull him up.' He hurried into the kitchen and brought out the plate of roast pork they were supposed to have for dinner. 'Alright, I'm off.' He opened the gate, called Robber's name and whistled. 'Dinner, boy'. The dog raced for his bowl. Tony grabbed Paul's arms and pulled him back over the fence.

'Well, he finished that remarkably fast' Tony's father said, laying down the empty dish. 'Now would you mind telling me what you were doing over there?' He glared at them all.

'He was supposed to get an apple, Mr. Almeida, and come right back,' Jason answered finally.

'But didn't you tell him that dog's dangerous? You all knew.' He glared at his sons and Jason.

Tony cringed. It was coming, he knew it. 'Tony sent me' wept Paul.

'What?' his father questioned deceptively mildly. 'Did you?'

Tony glanced at Paul, shocked to see the malice on his face. 'Yeah,' he muttered.

Minutes later he found himself sitting in his room, watching the other children being sent home, awaiting punishment.

The phone rang shrilly causing him to jump. It also delayed his father's arrival. Tony pushed his door open softly and listened. 'Si, Papa' he heard. Relief flooded him. It was his grandfather, who always spoke at length and always put his father in a good mood.

He busied himself with a box of Lego. A long while later he heard his father saying goodbye and hanging up. This time his footsteps led to the kitchen. He couldn't be cross anymore, Tony hoped. He'd get away with a scolding. Relieved, he built his space station's roof.

Their bell rang. Marco and Jane rushed to join him. They peered out of the window. 'Let me see. Move, let me see.'

'Let me guess' Tony said wryly, 'it's Mr. Jones come to complain to Papa.'

'Yep' Marco agreed. 'You should go hide. Leave town…' the last advice a legacy of too many cowboy movies.

They all heard their door bang. Jane threw him a sympathetic look. Mr. Almeida appeared. 'Sit' he ordered, pointing to a bed. They sat in a row. 'You kids have had quite a day. Care to explain?'

Jane spoke up, explaining about the dares. She accompanied this with her most innocent look and concluded it wasn't any of their faults. She'd make a fantastic lawyer he couldn't help thinking.

'Well honey, watching mischief is bad enough. I don't want to hear about such a thing again.' The younger ones were dismissed and he glanced at his eldest son. 'Antonio, I was willing to overlook one thing, but not Mr. Jones. You KNOW what he's like. I had to listen to him. Hell, I had to apologize to him! And I hate that guy. Now come here.'

Tony shifted in his corner, remembering the sound spanking that followed. They moved to LA the following year as his father wished to live closer to his parents. He'd been back to Chicago several times since, visiting his mother's family, taking Michelle with him last year. The last break they'd had, the two of them.

It was his father's relatives that he met the following summer. His first trip abroad, first passport. Tears crept into his eyes as he pictured his grandparents. Behind closed eyes he saw it all again – their home in a small town – their kindness to an army of grandchildren.


	3. Chapter Three

_Disclaimer: I don't own 24 or any of the characters_

'Mom, we're home' Tony yelled bursting through the door a year after they moved to LA. He dropped his bag on the floor and rushed to the kitchen. 'No more school!'

'Holidays' cried his three year old sister Anna. She stood on a bar stool stirring something in a bowl. 'You can take me to the park everyday!'

'Yep' he agreed cheerfully. Today he would have agreed to anything. Not that he ever refused Anna. She was the merriest of all the family. Though not as intelligent as Rita or as pretty as Jane she infected everyone with her good humour and got fussed over even more than Bobby, the baby.

'What are you cooking?'

'Chocolate cake' she told him importantly. She licked the wooden spoon and held it out to him. 'Need more sugar?' Tony tasted the mixture and shook his head.

'Hi Tony' his mother said, arriving with Rita and Bobby and an empty washing basket.

'There were six birds sitting on the fence,' Rita began. 'Bobby scared two - and then there were three.'

'Four' said Tony automatically. The girls looked impressed. Bobby pulled open a drawer and removed a ladle. He gently took it from the baby and returned it.

'Tony, I'd like to get this in the oven and start supper. Could you take the kids outside and read to them?'

'Sure mom' he agreed and gathered the three little ones. 'Now what are we reading today?'

'Puss In Boots' said Rita. 'There was a baker and he had three sons' she held up three fingers, 'and no money, so...'

'Wasn't he a miller?' asked their mother.

'Yep, something like that. What's a miller?' But neither Jane nor Marco knew. She turned to her eldest brother.

'A guy who has windmills at the top of his house, and grinds stones into bread' explained Tony. He noticed the horrified look on his mother's face.

'Tony, have you ever seen a wheat field? I mean, we've driven through enough coming here. What do you think it's for?'

'Cornflakes' said Jane.

'No, shredded wheat' said Tony frowning in thought.

'You kids know nothing of life' said his mother sadly as she closed the kitchen door behind them.

That evening Tony lay awake in bed, listening to his parents talking. The miller conversation was related and he heard their hearty laughter. His mother, it seemed, needed a break for a couple of weeks, and his father suggested he take the children to stay with his parents. His heart leapt in excitement. A real trip, what fun. He opened his door softly to hear every word. His mother was wandering how two elderly people could cope with so many children at once. They wouldn't all behave well for four weeks.

Tony crept lower down the stairs. 'Doesn't matter, honey' his father was saying. 'They'll cope. They love kids. Our kids could use some time in the country seeing things growing too.'

The living room door opened suddenly and his mother walked out. She stared in surprise at him. 'Tony, what are you doing up? It's nearly nine!'

'Listening' he replied with his cheeky grin. 'Mom please let Papa take us to Mexico. Please. I'll be sooooooo good.'

His father laughed and picked him up. 'That'll be the day. Now off to bed.'

The following day his father took all of them for passport photos. Afterwards they packed a bag of clothes each, some toys and some sandwiches. They left for Mexico later that week. They set off before dawn to avoid the LA traffic. He slept for a while.

Once across the border they stopped for drinks and ice-creams. Hours passed.

Only Tony was awake when they arrived the following dawn. He was sitting in the front with the map, checking everything along the route. Light shone through the downstairs windows of a pleasant whitewashed house. The door opened to admit an older man who embraced his father. Shyness gripped him so he remained in the car watching.

Presently his grandfather peered into the car and gazed at each child. 'They are lovely, Marco, so lovely' he kept repeating. He reached the front and smiled. Tony grinned back, surprisingly at ease.

'Come' the old man said and he clambered out. 'Look how big you are now.' He hugged Tony tightly. 'He looks so like you, Marco.'

The children began to stir and climb out sleepily. For a while both his father and grandfather were occupied carrying them out. 'Now we live downstairs, and Rosa is upstairs but she's visiting cousins now, so the girls can have her room, and the boys will have to share Pedro and Jose's room.'

Their grandmother appeared. She beamed at the circle of children. Breakfast was ready. They settled down to a long table and his grandfather said grace. Tony and Jane helped clear the table afterwards while their grandmother took the younger ones into the living room and showed them a box of old toys.

Outside there were a few swings hanging from an apple tree, a chicken house further away, a cage of pigeons and a vegetable garden larger than their entire garden at home.

'Why the pigeons, Abuelo?' Tony asked as he helped carry fresh water to them.

'For soup' he replied simply. 'Now we water the vegetables too, before the sun gets too hot.' They walked along the rows with the hose.

'What are those?' Tony asked, pointing along a stone wall.

'Grapes, Antonio. Grapes to eat' – he handed him a bunch 'and grapes for wine. This year they grow well. The fence' he pointed to the stone fence behind them, 'is to keep the earth in place as it's sloping downwards. It's important to maintain your lands, or you won't grow anything.'

Tony felt at complete peace. He listened to his grandfather explain how to grow a whole list of vegetables, and how to store them in a cool cellar to keep. They returned for lunch. His father glanced at them. 'Ah, you've found a new favourite, Papa' he said softly. After siesta, which Tony spent quietly looking at a book; they went to paddle in a small stream nearby. In the evening Tony's grandfather sat on the terrace telling stories. He spoke of old Spain and the heroes who defeated the Moors. A few lights lit the terrace and Tony felt he could stay there all night and never grow tired. All too soon his father sent them off to bed.

Marco and Bobby fell asleep instantly but Tony lay awake. He rose quietly and peered outside. The lights still shone and his grandfather sat alone smoking a pipe. He longed to be told another story so he crept downstairs and joined him.

'Ah, Tony' he said, beckoning him to come sit on the bench beside him. 'You wish to hear more about old battles and heroes. You would like to be a hero too someday, no?' He nodded eagerly. 'Being a hero is not always much fun' his grandfather said quietly. 'Not all come back to a parade. Peace is best, with a good family to look after you. This is what life is about. Now, let me tell you about when I was little.' Tony fell asleep outside on the bench that night.

He awoke tucked up next to Marco. Bobby slept with his father in the other bed. He found his t-shirt and shorts, pulled them on and ran outside. His grandfather smiled a greeting. 'What are you doing up so early?'

'I'll help you water the plants' Tony said. They worked steadily round the plot.

'Well, with your help we finished that early. Maybe you could help me fix a piece of damaged wall.' Tony handed up a few large stones and watched as his grandfather rebuilt the wall.

After breakfast his grandfather brought out an old guitar. 'Can I try?' He guided Tony's fingers, teaching him the chords. 'Could I play again later?' he asked, enjoying the sound of the music.

'Anytime. We'll play each day and soon you will be very good. You have a talent.' Tony's eyes lit up. He felt great being praised.

The following day his father returned to LA and his two cousins returned from camp. It was siesta time and Tony played quietly with a few tin soldiers when they arrived. They eyed each other mistrustfully.

'They're ours' the younger boy said finally, pointing to the toys.

Tony got up slowly. 'I'm sorry – they're not damaged.'

Their grandfather frowned. 'Quiet, boys, it's siesta time. Go and rest. You too, Tony.'

That evening Tony watered the garden with Rita and Anna. His grandfather sat on the terrace with his cousins, asking about camp. He seemed familiar with the names of all their friends. He felt left out and jealous. The evening proved no better. After dinner his grandfather played the guitar with his cousins, both of whom played well. He wandered upstairs by himself. 'Why did they have to come back so soon?' he thought angrily as he stared at the ceiling. 'Who needed them?' Nobody noticed his absence.

Next morning he met Jane at the swings. 'Hi Tony' she called. 'Pedro and Jose are sooo cool, can you see them shooting?' He stared at his cousins shooting with bows and arrows – hitting their targets from a distance.

'It's not that hard'.

They must have heard him for suddenly they appeared carrying their bows. 'Want to try, Tony? It's real easy.'

'Hah' Tony muttered under his breath. Right now, trying out a bow and arrow was the last thing he desired. He'd never before held either. Jose handed him his bow.

'Come on, let's go. We don't have much time before church.' They led him to a spot reasonably close to the target. 'Try to hit the circle in the centre.'

He glared at them. 'I know what to hit!' He pulled the bow string taut. It snapped backwards stinging his fingers. The arrow fell to his feet. The boys laughed uproariously and even Jane smiled. He pressed his lips together and laid a second bow to the string. This time his arm moved as he released it causing the arrow to land dozens of feet away to the right. His face turned red. The boys laughed louder.

'It's not so bad, at least it went far' Jane defended him.

'Si, Tony can shoot far. Better watch him though, he can shoot anywhere in a 360 degree radius.'

'He'd kill the umpire from behind!'

Tony laid down the bow. He was contemplating how quickly he could pack his bag and set off home when his grandmother arrived. Breakfast was on the table and she told them off sternly.

Following breakfast he had no chance to escape as he was led upstairs with his brothers and sisters. His grandmother laid out their church clothes and spent a long time doing the girls' hair.

The bells rang as they walked into a dim little church. Everyone knew each other and chatted. His grandmother introduced them. Eventually the priest arrived and they took their seats. He began a short sermon and Tony stared at the sun shining through the stain glass windows. His cousins sat between him and the central aisle. They sat silently for a few moments, before leaning forward to whisper into another boy's ear. He immediately grinned and turned to stare at Tony. Tony felt his face burning. He stared at the ground.

'Can you do anything, Tony?' whispered Pedro. 'Play the guitar, ride a horse? Or maybe archery is your talent?' All three boys laughed. Their grandfather frowned and put a finger to his lips. His cousins fell silent.

'I play basket ball' whispered Tony, leaning towards them. 'And baseball.' He gave Pedro a sudden shove. The boy bumped into his brother who was knocked into the middle of the aisle. Tony felt himself being lifted up by his right ear. 'Ouch' he gasped. His grandfather threw him a stern look and led him outside.

'Where do you think we are, Antonio?' He remained silent, kicking a pebble with his shoe. 'This is a church. We always behave here. Now why do you quarrel with your cousins? Your brothers and sisters like them, why can't you? Tony, they have nothing. Their father died and left them nothing. That's why they came to stay with me. Why can't you let them show off a little?'

'I'm sorry Abuelo, I didn't know' he said, beginning to feel ashamed. 'It's just... they're so good at everything. They belong here.'

'All my children and grandchildren belong here' said his grandfather. 'Remember that, Tony.'

They walked back inside and sat down. After church they drove home and the normal routine began. Lunch was prepared. Tony sat by himself on the swing watching the clouds floating past.

'Feel like coming for a walk?' inquired his grandfather. He got off and followed him through the fields up the slope. From here they could see the whole valley, the wheat fields and beyond them the town. His grandfather sat down quietly and laid a few flowers on the ground.

Tony noticed a tomb stone. Intrigued he bent forward. 'Antonio Almeida 1940-1940' 'It's me' he whispered gulping involuntarily before he remembered the date.

'No, Tony, it's my baby, my first baby. He was born too soon. The doctor said he couldn't live more than a few minutes but he was strong - he lived three days. I really hoped...' his voice trailed off. 'You looked like him when you were a baby. One day I will rest here with him.'

'Don't say that, Abuelo, you've got me' Tony cried. 'I like to be here.' He climbed into his grandfather's arms.

They walked back hand in hand to find his cousins fishing in the stream. 'Tony has something to tell you' his grandfather said pushing him forward.

Tony took a deep breath. 'Sorry for pushing you in church. I just wanted to shoot like you, and I can't.' He gazed at the water flowing slowly past.

'I'll teach you'. He lifted his eyes to see his older cousin smiling at him.

Tony rose from his corner and stretched. He cupped his hands and drank a little water from the basin. A new guard patrolled the corridor. He stared straight ahead avoiding eye contact with the prisoner. The sound of his footsteps slowly died away.

Maybe if he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough he could return to the house in Mexico, and join in telling stories that evening. He had so many of his own by now. Later he could play the guitar and sing songs they all knew as well as songs from unfamiliar lands where he'd served in the marines. Yet no matter how hard he tried he couldn't forget that the little town had grown around the farm. The house no longer existed.


	4. Chapter Four

St Augustine's wrote a week after he sat his exams. His mother opened the envelope and they all crowded round. She read a few lines to herself then smiled. 'Well done, Tony. You got in.' She handed him the letter and went to call his father.

'Wow Tony. Such a rich private school' Jane said. 'What will you do there?' She looked slightly worried. She only expressed what he hadn't dared to voice. What indeed? Until now it had been fun dreaming of going there, but now that he was accepted –well he didn't really know anymore.

Marco laughed. 'Tony will be fine. Ask about the teachers instead! They'll get a 'real' person coming now.'

'Tony, I'm off now' his mother called. 'Dinner's in the fridge. Put it in the oven at 4.30. Just peel some potatoes. Joey's down for his nap. Be good.'

He took them outside to play basket ball, boys against girls. Tony lifted Bobby a few times to drop balls through. Presently Joey awoke and Tony fed him his bottle. The baby fussed. Tony walked with him in the lounge until he settled, and then re-heated the bottle. 'Come on Joey, eat. Mom's at work. Papa'll be back soon.' The baby gradually took the bottle.

The girls watched TV on the floor while Marco worked on a model ship on the dining room table. Tony's eyes searched for Bobby. Presently he got up, returned the bottle to the kitchen and found Bobby playing with the phone. 'Who're you calling, Bob?'

'Batman' he said, giving his brother an impish grin.

'Bobby, call him quick. Otherwise Mom won't be able to get through and she'll be worried.' She'd be cross with him too. The phone had to be kept free for whichever parent wished to confirm they were all okay. Bobby hung up.

'Batman's coming' he yelled and rushed to the window.

An hour later their father returned. He hugged Tony. 'Well done. I'm so proud of you. I knew you'd get in. Now tomorrow I'll take you to get your uniform, all of it!' The list of necessary items was indeed impressive.

'Do we even have the money for the uniform?' he asked.

'Yes we do. You'll have everything the same as the others there,' his father said firmly.

That night Tony lay awake staring at the clouds outside. He finally got up for some water and peeped into his parents' room. 'Papa.' Mr. Almeida laid down the book he was reading and beckoned him in.

'Come here. Hop in.' Tony climbed into his mother's side of the bed and rested his head against his father's shoulder. 'What's wrong?'

'I don't know if I want to go to St Augustine's,' he began slowly. 'I don't know anyone there. What if they all hate me, coz we don't live where they do.?'

'Hey, I won't pretend it'll be easy all the time. But you're smarter than the majority of them, and you play basket ball quite well, so they'll get used to you. Tony, I won a scholarship to come here, and I met your mom, and see how well that worked out.' He ruffled Tony's hair.

'They say it's a real strict place' Tony continued miserably. 'Like a jail'.

Mr. Almeida laughed. 'Honey, it's a private school. They've got their own behavior code. You will have to be obedient and punctual, but no, it's nothing like a prison. The uniform is $ 500. Just give it a go, it might be fun!'

'It won't be' replied Tony apprehensively. 'This St Augustine –he was a miserable guy who wrote only about the end of the world.'

'Stop it, Antonio. Don't even think such things. St Augustine was one of the founders of modern history and he lived at the break-up of the Roman Empire. He can be excused for thinking about the end of the world.'

Tony sighed. Entering the school would be the end of his world. Yet he saw how proud his parents were. It would take tremendous pressure off his father who spent hours on his education every weekend. There was no chance of wriggling out of this one.

After breakfast his father took Tony and Jane to get the uniform. Jane could be trusted to behave perfectly and also to provide Tony with moral support. She admired every aspect of the uniform, trying on his jersey and blazer. They went on a tour of the school. Jane walked ahead cheerfully while Tony lagged behind, wandering how he would ever find his way around.

At home he was forced to play with Marco during the last week of the holidays. His old friends looked at him oddly and chatted about the school they'd all start. He was no longer included. His mother must have noticed something for she took them to the beach every morning. They swam and he helped the younger ones build large sand castles, and collect buckets full of shells to take home.

'Why can't we just do this everyday?' Tony wished. 'Who needs school?' The days flew by.

They got ready for the beginning of the new school year with frantic preparations, the same as every previous year. Note books and pencils purchased weeks ago had managed to go missing. Rita's bag had been torn. Their mother left for work in the middle of it all. It was past 11.00 before they were all in bed.

Breakfast was rushed the next morning. All the dishes were abandoned on the table as they dressed. They piled into the van. 'Now Tony, you start first and your school is pretty strict about arriving on time, so I'll drop you first' said his mother. 'Ok?'

He nodded silently. It was a bit like starting school in LA three years ago, only then he had Jane and Marco with him. Now he stood and watched as the van drove away. He took a deep breath and walked through the yard into the gym where the incoming students were supposed to assemble. Class lists were read and teachers led away charges. A middle aged man with glasses called Tony's group.

They settled at desks in a quiet room. 'Now I know the majority of you know each other, but we've still had a long holiday, so why don't we start by telling what we did?'

Tony listened to his new classmates' holidays. Every one of them had been somewhere. Popular spots included London, Paris, Rome and the Greek islands. Someone had been to Acapulco. One even spent a couple of weeks skiing in New Zealand. Tony told them he had been to Mexico. The hour passed.

They went to their first class next –English. The teacher read a poem about a sailing disaster and instructed them to form groups of four and discuss it. Tony watched the others grab their friends and sit at tables. One group of three chatted in a corner. The teacher pointed him that way.

They fell silent at his approach. 'Hi' he said awkwardly as he joined them.

'Now I want your group's list on reasons why this man can be called a tragic hero.' The teacher drifted off. The silence at the table continued. All three boys stared at Tony. He began to wish he had been placed with a different group.

'So you're the scholarship boy?' one asked.

'Stop it Dennis. Ignore him,' another boy told Tony. 'I'm John.' His file was decorated with tennis players' pictures. Tony recognized him as the boy who had been to Acapulco. 'So who's your favourite tennis star?'

Tony shook his head. 'I watch baseball.'

'No no' John shook his head. 'Why waste time with a team, when you can get all the medals by yourself. Tennis is great. You haven't watched the US Open final last year when…'

Tony noticed the teacher returning and placed a warning finger on his lips. The teacher paused at their table. 'You haven't got anything written down yet. Get on with it.'

'We were just discussing some ideas, sir' John told him with the assurance of the very wealthy. It wasn't a complete lie either, Tony decided, and had to bite on his lip to keep from grinning.

'Well I'll hear them in ten minutes' he said and walked off.

'Now then, where were we? Let me show you some of the best players.'

'Tony wouldn't know a thing about tennis. He probably lives in a small house with ten brothers and sisters and old grandparents and they wouldn't own a racquet between them' Dennis remarked.

Tony raised his head and stared back. 'You don't know anything about me.'

The teacher rapped on the board with a pointer, startling Tony who had just received a short biography on the top 80 tennis players. 'Alright, class discussion. Group 1.' Group 1 gave some remarks about disasters at sea. They failed to impress the teacher. 'Group 2.'

'We're still in the process of finalizing our argument' John said. 'Could we go later?'

'This is the first day, so I'll excuse you. Now I suggest you find some points pretty quickly.'

'Tony, the only tragedy I know about is losing in the Davis Cup finals. You think of something to say.'

Tony grabbed the poetry book and rapidly read the poem again. When the teacher called their group again he rose. 'The protagonist was a tragic hero because he was too loyal. The guy knew you don't go out to sea in the winter coz it's too rough, but loyalty to his king made him go and die.'

The teacher stared at him in silence for a moment before turning to the board and rephrasing what he had said. 'Well done Group 2.'

'Wow Tony –that was great. You sit with me in English everyday, ok?'

Tony felt relieved. Nothing was worse than standing alone while others settled into groups. He followed John to the next class and stood uncertainly by the door. John turned to him. 'You speak a little Spanish?'

'I do.'

'Then sit here.' His perfect Spanish was soon discovered however and he was sent instead to study French.

The day wore on. John sat next to him at lunch. He introduced a few of the others. The boy from the skiing holiday proved highly entertaining. Next came a science class which also passed rapidly. Some text books were handed out and they were told to read the first two pages.'

'Well Tony, how was it?' his mother asked as she picked him up.

'Some of the boys are ok. There's one, called John, who's going to follow the tennis circuit round the world once we're through with school. There's some nasty ones though.'

The first week passed. Tony made a few friends in his classes and even made the basket ball team. That irritated Dennis further –and he seemed to think up some new insult daily. Tony grew to hate him.

'Now today we'll discuss gravity.' The science teacher wrote the word on the board. 'That's what keeps your bodies sitting here. There was a famous physicist named Newton. Some of you may have heard of him. Now he was sitting under the apple tree one day when an apple fell on his head…'

The class laughed. The teacher tapped his pointer sternly against the board.

'No way,' Tony heard himself saying. 'Next thing you'll be telling us, it was a banana!'

The class laughed louder. The teacher stared at Tony in astonishment, unused to such interruptions. 'Tony, I will not have the class disrupted. Go stand in the corner and keep quiet.'

He bit his lip and went to the corner.

'Now then, get into groups of four.' The teacher handed out a piece of metal and a rubber the same size. 'Throw them down 20 times at the same time and note which falls sooner.'

John's group moved to the table closest to Tony. He watched as they dropped the items. The teacher wandered around listening to results. 'Obviously the metal falls first, it's heavier' said John.

'John, no,' Tony called. He beckoned and his friend joined him. 'When people beam down to alien planets they all land at the same time. Whether they are big or small. It's coz of the alien planet's gravity. Gravity is the planet's force.'

'So?'

'So all objects should fall at the same time as they're pulled with the same strength.'

The teacher turned. He walked up to the corner. Tony was afraid he would be told off for talking but the teacher smiled instead. 'Well done. I appear to have one student who uses his brains. Go join your group.'

School would have been almost perfect without a few boys led by Dennis who never allowed him to forget he didn't belong in their circle. After a while the science teacher even came to expect a few wise comments from him, asking him if he had anything further to say when he remained silent. Yes, school was certainly entertaining, and so were the handful of occasions when he had skipped a day.

Tony stood on a foot which had gone numb. The returning sensation almost hurt. How long had he sat there in the same position? Instinctively he glanced at his left wrist. He gritted his teeth remembering his watch being removed together with his clothes. He had been most reluctant to part with it, undoing it only after he stood naked. After he had been 'asked' twice. It had been thrown carelessly onto a desk by the officer who searched him. Michelle's gift which he had worn daily for the previous two years was laid in a box. His wrist felt naked without it.


	5. Chapter Five

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the 24 characters_

Jane rushed into his room waving the letter in her arms. Her eyes shone. Tony looked up from some mathematics, almost glad of an interruption. 'What's up?'

'Tony, he's coming! He's really coming to LA. Kathy says so.' She pushed the letter at him. Kathy was a relative who seemed to know famous actors whereabouts in great detail. He laid the letter on top of his homework and glanced through it. Jane's favourite actor was indeed coming to visit LA for a new film with a Hollywood producer.

He grinned at her excitement. 'Janey, the guy's an idiot. Fancy dressing up in surgical gowns and acting a doctor! He has no clue what he's talking about.'

'Yes he does. Tony, he's great. If we had a doctor like that I'd be sick everyday.'

He laughed with her. 'Well, tell Mom you need to get to the airport tomorrow morning. To see this Malcolm Bradley.'

Jane's face changed. She shook her head doubtfully. 'She won't go for it, Tony. One, she hates the guy, two, she hates the show, three, it's a school day and four, she has to go to work and she won't let me go to the airport by myself.'

'I'd still ask. Do something extra helpful tonight, get her in a really good mood.'

'I wish Papa were here. He'd take a day off and take me' she said. He knew she was right. Mr. Almeida adored all his children but Jane was his favourite. He could indeed have been persuaded to drop everything and take her. Unfortunately he was in San Francisco with his boss for the next few days.

Jane returned very depressed an hour later. She settled on his bed and sniffed. Tony got up from the floor, stepped over his homework and sat next to her. 'She said no?' he asked unnecessarily.

'She said no' Jane echoed. She burst into tears. 'It's my only chance to see Malcolm, get an autograph. I can't miss him. I'll just go by myself.'

'Janey, the airport's a long way away. And you see Malcolm every night on the TV. We could look for a signed autograph and just buy it – he probably wouldn't give you one anyway.'

Jane stared at him in a rage. 'You're just like mom! I hate you. Leave me alone.' She rushed back to the girls' room. The door slammed. Seconds later it flew open and Anna came stumbling out. It banged behind her.

Tony exchanged glances with her. 'You better say sorry' his ten year old sister told him.

'I didn't do anything' he protested.

Anna shook her head. 'She's mad at you' she told him and went downstairs.

Tony sighed and contemplated returning to his math project, but knew he'd lost concentration. Also he was heartily sick of it by now. He ignored an instinct warning him to leave Jane alone till she settled. Slowly he turned the handle. Jane lay on her bed crying. She glared at him. 'Get out!'

'No, I won't' he told her, entering the room and closing the door behind him. 'You really want to see this Martin...?'

'Malcolm' she yelled. 'Tony, I have to see him and I WILL see him. Tomorrow. At the airport.'

'Well, I'd better check what buses go there,' he said. 'It will be two at least. We'll have to leave at the normal time and wear our uniforms.'

Jane's glare was replaced by a warm smile. 'You're coming with me! Tony, you're the best brother in the world.'

'And you only realized it now?' he teased. 'What time does he get in?'

'Around 11.00 I think.'

Tony returned later with a sheet of paper. 'We have to catch the bus to town, the same as we take to school, but then we need one that goes close to the airport. It only goes once an hour. We'll have twenty minutes to change.'

Jane grinned in excitement. 'What about school?' she asked. 'Will you write me a note?'

Tony stopped at the door and pulled a puzzled expression on his face. 'What?' he asked.

'Come on, I know you signed Papa's name on the note one of your teachers sent last week. Marco saw you.'

Tony blushed. His French teacher had been annoyed about shoddy homework and had written to complain. At the bottom of the note was a place for a parental signature. He'd dismissed the thought of handing it to either parent within seconds. The Cubs had a game that weekend and he fully intended to watch it. He would try to sign the note himself! His father's signature was much simpler to copy than his mother's, so he'd used it. The French teacher was satisfied, his parents remained blissfully unaware of the whole incident and he'd watched the Cubs losing yet another game.

'And Marco told you? And no one else?'

'Only Rita' Jane said.

'Oh God. That means Anna certainly know too,' he groaned. Those two were closer than twins and shared all secrets. 'And she's such a little chatterbox.'

'She won't tell' Jane assured him. 'I asked her not to.'

'Great. At least Bobby doesn't know. He doesn't, does he?'

'Well –he and Joey kind of came in while I was talking to Anna.'

Tony leaned against the wall horrified. 'Just who exactly doesn't know?' he asked.

'Well, Mom and Papa don't' she said. 'And Maria doesn't either.'

The last admission didn't cheer him at all. Maria's vocabulary consisted of three words only. 'Just make sure NO ONE hears about this.'

Next morning they dressed in their uniforms as though they were going to school. All through breakfast they exchanged furtive glances. Their mother glanced at Jane a few times but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. She hurried the three older ones to the bus stop.

'What's going on?' Marco inquired as they got off the bus in the city. Tony grabbed his elbow and explained that today was an emergency –at least for Jane, and that they were going for an autograph. He was worried that Marco might insist on accompanying them but the boy had sports first thing that morning so was content to go to school. Tony watched him board his bus, intensely proud of his brother who had just joined him at St Augustine's on a sports scholarship.

The bus wound its way through the centre and countless suburbs. The bell constantly rang, people got on and off. A few stared at their uniforms noting how out of place they seemed, but fortunately no one commented. Tony idly wandered whether the bus route was designed to go anywhere in particular, or just to make a great tour of the suburbs.

Finally they pulled into their destination. They crept through the back exit of the bus and entered the domestic terminal. A vast milling crowd swallowed them up, granting them anonymity. He felt himself relax. Tony led the way through to the 'Arrivals' hall and found a monitor that showed incoming flights.

'We've got one at 11.00 o'clock from New York. It's coming just down there. We've still got an hour.' They wandered upstairs to the observation deck and watched flights taking off. Tony began to enjoy himself immensely. He loved to hear the strengthening roar of the jet engines on the runway, prior to take-off, and entertained himself trying to predict the exact second of take- off. How easy it would be to spend the whole day there.

They pointed out airlines they recognized and guessed at others. 'Do look, Jane. That one's got a kangaroo on its tail!' he cried, handing her the binoculars. 'It's going to the international.'

11.00 o'clock approached. He led her to the arrivals hall and they settled down to wait. 'You got his biography and a pen?' he asked.

Jane nodded. 'Of course.' They watched the disembarking passengers. Most waited impatiently around the baggage claim but one man walked straight past. Tony touched Jane's hand. 'That him?' he asked.

'Yep' Jane whispered. Her face had paled. She remained on her seat.

'Come on Janey, don't you want his autograph? He's about to leave.'

'I can't' she said in a hoarse voice. 'I don't know what to say.' She turned her full gaze on him. 'Please ask him, Tony.' Before he could formulate a reply she pushed the book and pen into his hands. 'Hurry'.

'Jane, he'll think I'm some nut. He's used to ladies chasing after him, not...'

Jane gave him a shove. 'Hurry Tony, he's leaving.'

Tony found himself racing after the actor, catching up with him just outside the terminal. He grinned at the irony of the situation and stepped in front of the stranger. He asked for an autograph, pushing the open book and pen into his hands as he spoke.

Malcolm didn't look particularly impressed. 'What name?' he asked staring straight through him.

'Jane' he replied. The actor stared at him in surprise. Tony felt himself blush to the roots of his hair. 'For my sister' he added hurriedly.

'You owe me one' he told her. Jane hugged him fiercely. 'Now we got about two hours to kill before we need to catch our bus home. Should we stay a bit longer or hang around the city?'

They decided it was probably safer to stay at the airport. Tony found a table and produced pen and papers from his school bag. 'Now for our notes' he said. 'Watch the professional and learn, Jane! What should it be, sick with the flue, sprained ankle, headache, or dentist?'

Jane suggested the dentist as neither had been there for a couple of years. She watched breathless as he wrote two identical notes and signed their father's name at the bottom.

'You're getting quite good at this Tony' he told himself, noting how easily he had signed this time. 'Best remember it's strictly for emergencies.'

They got home at the usual time. Neither spoke of the day again, though Jane spent many hours admiring her autograph.

It was the French teacher's dissatisfaction with his homework the following week that led to his undoing. He was busy with a computer assignment when his father arrived home and ordered him upstairs. Tony racked his brains trying to imagine what he had done wrong while he waited for his father. He wasn't left in suspense more than a minute.

'Tony, I got a call from a certain Mr. Lamont' his father began. Tony managed to convert his gasp into a cough. 'Listen! He wanted to know why I hadn't checked your homework. Why I obviously didn't care.'

'What did you say?' whispered Tony, unable to meet his father's eyes. How much did he know?

'Well, I was about to apologize and say I hadn't known, but he told me...' Mr. Almeida paused for emphasis 'that since I had personally signed a note indicating I would monitor your work, he had expected an improvement. Funny thing is, I just don't remember receiving or signing that letter.'

'So what did you say?' Tony could barely choke the question out.

'I don't even want to imagine what they would do to you if I told them the truth. So I said something about a particularly stressful week at work.' He glared at his son.

Tony let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding.

'How dare you forge my signature? It's a crime! I thought I could trust you. You're grounded, Tony, for the rest of the term.'

'But it's only just begun' he protested meekly.

'Without TV' his father finished.

That had to be the most boring two months of his life, Tony thought as he paced his cell. Home and school, school and home, with basketball practice providing his only entertainment. He missed several Cubs games. Summer had gone; by the time he next went to the beach the water was noticeably cooler. His grades also improved in all his subjects due to the extra time he put into studying and his father's checking every piece of homework.

The airport trip remained a secret to that day.

Footsteps sounded down the corridor. He pulled his thoughts back to the present and moved to look through the bars. Two guards marched towards him. One carried a tray which he pushed through the slot. Lunch –it had to be around midday.

'Thanks' Tony said and picked it up. Neither guard replied. Strange how much he longed to hear a pleasant word spoken to him.

He took his painkiller first to banish the returning throbbing in his neck. Lunch consisted of slightly soggy mashed potatoes with a small amount of beef. Not too bad considering where he was, Tony decided, and for the first time since his arrest ate hungrily. He left his tray and tin mug on the floor and lay on his bed.

'Siesta time, Tony' his grandfather's words echoed in his head. 'Use it. Have a break. The afternoon's problems will get here soon enough.' He pressed his moist eyes closed tighter and tried to clear his head. His broken night's sleep and the previous day's lack of sleep, together with his painkiller took effect. Within minutes he fell into a deep dreamless void.

Loud clanging jolted him awake all too soon. It took a couple of seconds to recall where he was. He rubbed his face –forcing exhaustion aside. The guard who had failed to acknowledge his thanks for the lunch stood outside, banging his night stick on the bars.

'Tray' he ordered.

The room swam before Tony as he sat up. He pushed his hand against the bed to steady himself, pausing to clear his head of hundreds of flashing lights. This infuriated the guard who banged louder.

'Ok, ok, just a second. What's the hurry anyway?' he asked bitterly. He rubbed his eyes before swinging his feet slowly over the edge. He sat there a few seconds longer staring at his tray.

The guard removed a notepad and wrote something inside it. 'You've been cited for failure to obey a direct order.'

Tony waved it away annoyed. 'Whatever.' He pushed his tray out roughly.

Sleep would not return –despite the renewed silence.


	6. Chapter Six

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the 24 characters_

Tony pushed his homework aside. It had been a very long day. Basketball practice before school had forced him to get up two hours earlier than usual. Breakfast had to be eaten quietly and he'd left the house by himself. When he arrived at school it was beginning to drizzle. Another class was practicing in the gym so his coach decided a little rain might even invigorate his team. His hair and t-shirt were damp by the end of the practice session. Just before being dismissed the coach called them together. Next week's game against their rival Anglican college would be a disaster, he predicted. They needed a lot more practice. They should meet again after school in the gym. The hot water hadn't worked in the showers so he had skipped it altogether contending himself by rubbing his hair dry with his towel. And the day had not improved. The computer studies teacher had discovered him playing computer pinball during one of his monologues, and he had received detention. As the entire school held the basketball team in high regard his detention was set for the following day. 'Some concession' he thought in disgust. The science teacher sprung an unexpected test on them, and the math teacher handed out two long pages of calculus questions to be completed by the next morning. During recess Dennis managed to annoy him more than usual, wandering whether he would quit basketball when he took up bull fighting! Just when Tony couldn't think of anything else that could possibly go wrong that day, he discovered he had left his group's debate notes at home. The English teacher was unimpressed, having to re-schedule the entire lesson, and had also handed out a detention!

He settled down at his place for dinner. Somehow he would have to broach his coming detentions. He sighed, knowing how unimpressed his parents would be. Could he plead basketball training as his excuse for a late arrival for the following two days? They would accept it without question. His eyes fell on his father cutting up Maria's dinner. 'I thought I could trust you, Tony.' He had promised to be completely honest. No, he would try to explain what had happened. Just maybe they would let it go.

'Mom, I can't watch the kids tomorrow or Thursday, coz I've got to stay at school a bit longer,' he said softly. The younger children stopped their chattering and gazed at him in amusement.

'Why, Tony?' His father placed a spoonful of food into the baby's mouth and looked at him.

He pushed a piece of carrot around his plate. 'I got detention.' Bobby giggled. Their father threw him a stern glance and gazed back at Tony.

'At your age? This is your final year. I'd expect this from Marco, not you. What happened?'

'Well the comp teacher didn't see how I could listen to him and play pinball at the same time, so he just assumed I wasn't listening to him,' Tony began. 'And he was slightly cross to see I brought the game to school. I mean, I don't need to concentrate on pinball –it's just something to do while I'm listening.'

Tony's mother looked annoyed. 'Do the others play games too?'

'No mom, they pretend to listen.'

'Was that all?' his father asked. Years of experience taught him a little about detentions.

'With the comp teacher it was. Mr. Maxwell was really unfair. Everyone leaves stuff home sometimes! He said I should've checked I had my work before I came, but if I'd remembered to check, I'd have remembered to take it.'

Mr. Almeida shook his head. He expressed his disappointment in his son's attitude. Tony apologized and promised to do better.

Room 6 was set aside for after school detention. Mr. Maxwell sat at his desk and checked the list of names for the afternoon. 'Tony Almeida, yes, Marco Almeida…we seem to have the whole Almeida family here today,' he commented. Tony glanced at his brother in surprise. Marco gave him a sheepish look and settled next to him.

'What happened?' he whispered.

Marco covered his hand with his mouth. 'I was just asking someone what the time was. My watch hasn't dried out yet.' Tony laughed, remembering his mother's annoyance at discovering Marco's watch in the washing machine that morning.

Mr. Maxwell glared at him. 'I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Tony. You could join us on Friday also.'

'I'm sorry, Mr. Maxwell' he said. He really couldn't be held back on Friday.

'Now then, as everyone here has wasted class time, I'm here to waste your time.' He handed out several sheets of lined paper. 'I want four pages of the line "I must behave in class at all times."'

Tony rolled his eyes at Marco. He preferred the science teacher supervising detention as he allowed everyone to get on with their homework. Time passed slowly. He finished his pages and settled down to wait for Marco.

Where would he be next year at this time, he wandered. It was so easy for everyone else in the school. They would all go on grand holidays to celebrate finishing school and then go on to college. All the previous years at this school would be wasted if he didn't go to college, and he longed to, but he also knew there was no way his family could afford it that year. He pushed the worry away as he saw the class about to be dismissed. He would think about it again in bed.

He chatted about various members of the basketball team with Marco on their way home. 'You guys won't win on Friday' Marco said. 'But we've got a game just before you and we'll win. I'll win for us.' Tony grinned at him, marveling at the complete assurance his brother always showed.

He sat in his usual spot next to John the following day. John asked him when the game would start.' Tomorrow at 2.00. It'll be tough.'

'I'll come and watch,' John told him.

Friday morning classes sped by without Tony being aware of them. He could concentrate only on the upcoming game. Marco's team played first. Tony watched and cheered enthusiastically. His brother was a great athlete. He felt proud when John remarked that he would have to talk about tennis with Marco.

Finally it was time for a warm- up session. Tony changed into his sport's uniform and joined his team mates. They played hard and returned to the locker room for a final word of advice from their coach. The headmaster also appeared and told them the whole school counted on them.

They were a little behind by the first break. Their coach moved around encouraging them all. He praised Tony's effort in particular. Dennis looked irritated. 'Now let's put some effort into this. We can still win.'

It was to no avail. They lost by a few points. They headed back to the locker room in silence. Tony threw his clothes off in disgust and stood under the warm water. Damn, he thought. They had tried so hard. It had been so close –but overall it didn't make a difference. They had lost.

By the time he had emerged from the shower the others were dressed. Nobody spoke beyond single word sentences. He dried himself vigorously. John opened the door and walked in. Nobody spoke to him. He stared at his friend. 'Doesn't matter, Tony, there'll be another match, right?'

'Yeah' Tony replied. 'And we'll lose that one too,' he thought.

'Don't forget the party tomorrow, guys,' Dennis called. 'Everyone's invited –except for Tony.' He moved in front of him. 'You lost us this match, Tony. You missed that last throw.'

Tony's fists clenched imperceptibly.

'He made more than you did.' John spoke up when the others remained silent.

'I guess we'll play better at college' Dennis remarked. 'We'll all be there, and Tony can crawl back to the dump he belongs in.'

'You seem pretty sure about that' Tony hissed.

'Oh, I am. You couldn't afford college. Look at your bag!' Dennis picked up his bag by its damaged handle. 'You found it close to home, didn't you Tony? In the garbage dump.' He grinned round at the others. Slowly they smiled back at him.

Tony rose to his feet. 'Put it down' he ordered. Dennis threw the bag down and kicked it away.

John laid a warning hand on his shoulder. He shook it off, his formidable temper fully aroused. 'You seem to know a lot about garbage dumps, Dennis. Maybe you'd like to go visit one.'

Without consciously planning to he punched Dennis on the nose. His knuckles hurt. Dennis returned his punch, hitting him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped, bent double for a few seconds before returning Dennis' punch with his full strength. The boys cleared a circle around them.

'Come on Tony' John called. His tennis magazine lay abandoned on a nearby bench.

Several punches later Dennis collapsed on the ground, pulling Tony's leg. He fell onto his opponent. Blows rained on him, and he returned all of them harder. He noticed Dennis' nose bleeding. None of them heard the door open.

Tony heard an angry voice ordering them to stop it, but didn't have the time to acknowledge it. He dodged a blow and banged Dennis' head against the ground.

Hands hauled him up. He noticed Dennis had been hauled up too, blood pouring from his nose. He could only imagine what his own appearance was like.

'What do you think you're doing' his coach demanded furiously. Dennis reached over to his bag and kicked it with his toe. His rage spilled over. 'You like to touch garbage, Dennis.' He reached over to the bin in the corner and emptied it over Dennis. Rubbish poured all around him, banana skins, apple cores, and the remains of sandwiches. 'Have some more.'

'Would someone care to tell me what's happening here?' inquired a new voice. The headmaster peered at them all in the greatest annoyance. 'Who started this?'

Nobody spoke. He glared hotly at them and repeated his question. Dennis immediately placed the blame on him. He looked quickly round the room at the circle of faces.

'Dennis started it,' John came to Tony's defense.

The headmaster looked round the room. He walked over to a boy leaning against a locker. 'Who started this, Adrian?'

Adrian gazed at the floor. He looked up at Dennis. 'Tony' he said quietly. Tony narrowed his eyes and stared at him, but Adrian wouldn't return his gaze. One by one the others were questioned and they all gave Tony's name. Tony stared at each of them in turn, his expression hardening.

'Dennis, you have detention for the rest of the week. Everyone else, get dressed and go home. Tony, you will accompany me to my office.' The headmaster began to walk towards the door. John silently picked up Tony's bag and left with the others.

His heart ached as he followed the headmaster the length of the school towards the office. 'After all these years, I thought we were a team' he thought. He remembered the numerous occasions he had been excluded from party invitations, but he had learned to accept that. Socially he would never fit in, but whilst they were at school they had talked to him, joked with him. They had copied his work. He had helped a couple of them with assignments in the library. None of it meant anything.

The headmaster sat at his desk and began a long lecture. He had accepted Tony in the school due to his excellent grades. They had been pleased with his academic and athletic performance so far, but his behavior left a lot to be desired. It was about time he learned how to behave. It was indeed amazing that he hadn't tried to imitate the others and act like a gentleman by now, but obviously it was too late for that to happen now. Well, since he hadn't learned the easy way, he would have to be taught. He stood up and reached above the bookshelf for a cane.

An icy shiver ran down his back. The circle of faces spun round him. He stared at the floor.

'Bend over that desk,' he was told. Gritting his teeth he did as he was told, and bit his lip hard to keep silent as he was thrashed. Finally he was ordered to rise. 'Now go home, Tony. Think about your dismal behavior over the weekend, and I expect to see an improvement on Monday if you wish to remain at this school.'

He managed to get home and up to his room before allowing the tears out.

Jane brought him a glass of cold juice. He glanced at her gratefully. Marco looked in later to say that Tony had played better than anyone else on the team. 'Just go, Marco' he begged.

Hours later his father opened his door and sat quietly on his bed. 'I could bring you up some dinner.' He shook his head. 'Want to tell me what happened?' he asked softly. Again Tony shook his head eyes pressed tightly shut. He felt a hand gently stroke his hair. 'Get a little sleep. It will be better tomorrow.'

No it wouldn't, he thought. He should never have passed that entrance exam. He never wanted to see any of them again.

John's arrival the next morning pulled him out of his silent depression. 'What are you doing here?' he asked, coldly.

John held up his bag. 'I had to bring this. Also, I got you something.' Tony took his bag and remained in the doorway. 'Come on; let me at least show you.' Grudgingly he stepped aside.

Anna stared at their visitor speechless for a few seconds before following them into the living room. John unpacked his own bag and produced a brand new tennis racquet. Tony gazed at it in silence. 'It's the best kind out now. All the players have these. I thought we could hit a few balls.'

He was about to refuse when he saw concern in his friend's eyes. He sighed instead. 'Thanks, John, but I don't want to go anywhere right now. I'm not that good,' he added, waving his hand at the racquet.

'You could come to my house. No one will disturb us there.'

Tony shook his head tiredly. 'I can't go there.'

'Look, Tony, I'd like you to come.' John stared at him. 'It's just a house.'

He would have refused again, pointing out that he had never been invited before but Anna grabbed his arm. 'Please Tony, let's go. I could be your ball fetcher.'

'Yes,' John said, getting up. 'Bring her too. She can be a ball-girl.'

It was later that evening that he resolved to go to college. He knew he would excel in computing and anything else mathematically oriented. 'The previous years would not be wasted' he decided, twirling a pen round his fingers. On Monday he would return to school and work harder than he ever had before. If he could get a scholarship once, he might be able to do so again. And if not………….Well, he would still enter San Diego State University.

He remembered filling in his application forms for university, hoping he could manage to win a scholarship. Studying until midnight, perfecting all his assignments before handing them in. During those last few months he only went out with his family a handful of times. The effort had been in vain. An unknown with an extra point ended up with 'his' scholarship. Tony filled in a different set of forms, applying to the military.

He had done well at his chosen subjects, gaining a combined bachelor of engineering, and bachelor of computer science in record time. He had been accepted at Stanford University for a masters program. Master of Computer Science. Yes, that chosen subject had led him along the first step to CTU. Why hadn't he chosen to do his masters in engineering instead? Tony answered that question immediately. It was his love of computers, his ability to gain information from them few others could, that led him to focus on that subject. Instead of sitting behind a comfortable desk as chief engineer of some project, he had just been forced to betray everything he held dear.

His chest tightened until he was afraid he would vomit. He deserved to be here. When it mattered the most, he had failed. All those people in the hotel had died because of him. Michelle would see their faces for the rest of her life.

'Yeah, Almeida,' he muttered aloud, resting his face against the bars, 'you're a failure.'


	7. Chapter Seven

Tony picked up his father's bag as soon as he appeared through customs and hugged him. 'How's Abuelo?' he asked.

His father shook his head hopelessly. 'I don't know, Tony. He seemed alright while I was there, but I just had this feeling he was only putting on an act for my benefit. He's lost.' They walked towards the exit in silence. 'How's everyone doing?'

'Mom's got a cold. She's in bed. I made lasagna. Marco's team won again, and Rita got another prize for chemistry. Everything else is as you left it.'

His father nodded satisfied. Tony put the suitcase into the boot and settled in the car. 'You got new tires?'

'Yep. The spares were more worn than the ones on the wheels.'

Mr. Almeida regarded him quizzically. 'What did you write this time, Tony?'

'A computing assignment. John's friend wanted an 'A' so I charged $200. It takes longer to write it up so well. And of course I done John's too. It got a 'B'. So I barely had time to do my own when someone else came and wanted help with some program, I got $150 for that too!'

'Be careful, Tony. One of these days they'll catch you. I hear they take a dim view of this kind of "help."'

'They won't catch me, Papa. I've only got one more exam tomorrow and then I'll defend my thesis on Monday. And that's it.'

They both fell silent. Tony paid for the airport car-park and started on the way home. 'Didn't Abuelo want to come here for a while?'

His father shook his head. 'He's not going anywhere, Tony, he never liked leaving his home, and he's old now. It's so quiet there now, I think it bothers him. I feel guilty leaving him, but what else can I do?'

'I could go' Tony said softly, changing lanes forcefully. 'Damn traffic. I'm free from Tuesday, and I've got some money too.'

'Tony, you've got to report to the army soon' Mr. Almeida said with a sigh.

'I've got a whole month. You know John invited me to go to their beach house, but I'll go some other time. Someone should be with Abuelo now.'

He defended his thesis successfully on Monday and packed a suitcase of clothes. He put everything in the car in the evening and left at dawn on Tuesday. After the hectic end of term he felt he could use some peace. Being alone he drove straight there pausing only to eat or take a few minutes walk. He crossed the border in record time and arrived the next day at his grandparent's home, having picked up only one ticket along the entire route.

He parked the car and went in search of his grandfather. The house was empty; he searched through all the rooms in vain. Getting worried he ran outside and searched the gardens. They were deserted too, and looked badly in need of watering. The swings hung motionless in the heat. Tony remembered pushing Maria there last summer, helping her race against Jo. He blinked back a few tears. Where else could he search for his grandfather?

Hearing footsteps he hurried behind the wall of grapes and found the old man watering a rose. They contemplated each other in silence for a moment before Tony rushed into his arms. 'Tony, what are you doing here?' his grandfather asked so quietly he could hardly hear him, before adding, even more softly, 'she planted this just before she died.'

Tony had guessed as much. He took the watering can. 'Abuelo, I've come to stay for a while. Let me water the rest of the garden for you.'

'Ah, yes, I haven't been doing anything for a while' his grandfather said. 'Nobody needs this anymore.'

'I'll get you a bore and lay down reticulation, so you'll just have to switch it on. It'll be much easier,' Tony told him. 'I'll come inside in a few minutes. Will you make up a bed for me?'

His grandfather seemed to focus for the first time. He nodded and went inside. Tony watered the garden and followed him in. He looked through an empty fridge. His grandfather looked embarrassed. 'Sorry, I didn't know you were coming.'

'It's okay' Tony replied, glad he had come. He found a packet of spaghetti in a cupboard and went outside to find a few vegetables. Soon he was preparing a sauce, while he chatted about his brothers and sisters to his grandfather. 'Shall we eat outside on the terrace?'

They carried lunch outside. Tony smiled as he stared towards the apple trees. 'Do you remember how hopeless I was with the bow and arrows?' he chuckled. 'And remember the next year, when we all went on holiday to Mexico City, and I got lost. Mom was frantic. And then that same year I tried Jose's skate-board and fell in this puddle just before Church.'

His grandfather smiled back at him. 'Oh yes, you were all quite a handful. I still remember lifting poor Marco off the tree after you hung him.'

Tony went slightly red. 'We were all Spanish and he was the Moor. He wanted to attack our castle. It wasn't my idea anyway, Abuelo. We've all grown up now.'

'Have you made friends with Jane's husband yet, what was his name? Robert?'

Tony got up to clear the table, hoping to avoid the question. His grandfather, still perceptive, followed him in. He sighed. Old people liked to be told everything was fine and everyone was friends, but he really couldn't bring himself to say anything pleasant about Robert.

'Jane likes him. They seem happy,' he finally answered, beginning the washing up.

'You know him well, Tony, and you hate him. What did he do to you?' his grandfather questioned. 'You never did say.'

'He was on the basket-ball team at school. He wasn't my friend,' Tony said shortly. 'After I quit someone broke a leg, and he came to tell me I should return and play for them in their final game. I wasn't going to, but John, you remember who he is, told me I should do it. Jane came to watch the game,' he paused, unable to explain how he'd felt putting on the sports uniform again and facing the team. 'She looked real pretty, and after we won he asked her out.'

'But if they are happy, can't you forgive him?' his grandfather pressed.

'Yeah' he answered. They wouldn't be happy for long, he guessed. 'He's just not like us, he has no family. None that he sees anyway. He's got this huge house and he runs one of his father's companies. It's all his, none of its Jane's. She might feel bad someday. Isn't it siesta time?' he asked, reluctant to discuss the subject further.

His grandfather smiled. Tony went upstairs to the room he used to share with his brothers and cousins, and lay on the newly made bed. After the exams and the all day drive he felt surprisingly tired. Something had to be done to cheer his grandfather up, he just couldn't imagine what. Maybe the new bore would help. He fell asleep thinking about it.

'Hey, Abuelo, I'm going to start digging the bore,' he said cheerfully the next morning. 'It's all got to be dug out before I can install the pump.' He started digging in the hard soil. After a while his grandfather came to examine the progress. He told Tony to go inside; it was too hot to continue.

'We should go to town now to buy the concrete rings and the pump' he said. 'Will you come with me?' He was surprised to see the reluctance on his grandfather's face. 'You haven't been anywhere since …'

His grandfather wordlessly got into the car. They had to drive to several smaller towns before they found all they needed. Tony paid an exorbitant price for delivery. 'Have a coffee with me, Abuelo?' he asked. 'Or a pizza? Saves us cooking tonight.'

They ended up having dinner in the town, sitting outside a café. Tony watched the traffic and the pedestrians wandering past. A plan for cheering his grandfather slowly took form. He broached it on the drive back.

'What do you think of my car, Abuelo?' He listened to his grandfather's praise. 'Why don't we take it for a ride next week? After the bore is installed. We could go all the way to the ocean, check out every beach along the coast!'

His grandfather stared at him in silence. Tony waited patiently, determined to take him for a holiday. He spent the rest of the drive home assuring his grandfather that the house would be fine, and a neighbor would keep an eye on the place. 'I always wanted to go for such a drive. Please come with me, I wouldn't go alone.' He was reminded that such a holiday would cost more than they could afford. Tony secretly smiled. He was winning this argument. 'No, it doesn't have to. We could take the tent. We'll take some sleeping bags.'

Finally he received the nod he had been waiting for.

He worked hard that week digging the well down to the water table, installing the pump, and digging out trenches for the sprinklers. He laid the pipes, connected them together, and went in search of his grandfather. 'It's all ready. I'm going to switch it on now. You can fire me if we don't get any water.' Water squirted from the ground, much to his relief.

They set off the next morning. He put his grandfather's favorite tapes on and drove rapidly, keeping an eye out for any police cars. By evening they arrived at the coast. Tony drove along the coast looking for a deserted beach. 'What about here, Abuelo? We're outside any town, there's no one here. I'll set up the tent.'

'Tony, camping is forbidden on the beach' said his grandfather gently.

Tony shrugged. 'We're not going to camp ON the beach; I'll put it up just along those dunes over there.' He set the tent up, unrolled their sleeping bags and opened the folded chairs. 'Now then, you sit down and I'll make some dinner.' He set up his portable gas can and boiled water, adding spaghetti. He opened a bottle of sauce and warmed them up together.

After dinner he went for a quick swim. He splashed around in the surf, enjoying the complete isolation of the spot. It was also fun settling down in the tent later that night. He pulled the sleeping bag's zip right up as the swim had cooled him and said goodnight.

'What happened between you and Robert, Tony?' asked his grandfather quietly. Tony sighed, feeling admiration for the timing of the question.

'He just lied about something, that's all.' His grandfather sat up, fixing him with a steady gaze. 'I got punished. Let's go to sleep now, we've got a long day tomorrow.'

'And you were completely innocent, Tony?'

Tony groaned aloud. 'Not completely' he admitted. He rolled over to face the opposite side of the tent.

'Then let it go. A family has to stay close together, you know, not just tolerate each other.'

Next morning they both had a swim and then drove into Decemboque for breakfast. Tony took the opportunity to call his parents and let them know their whereabouts. He handed the phone over to his grandfather with a grin. 'They don't believe me. You tell them we're on the beach!'

They spent a lazy day driving along the coast near the town, looking at all the various beaches. Tony had bought sandwiches which they ate for lunch, and they went shopping for mince meat in Decemboque in the late afternoon. Tony cooked dinner under the stars for the second time.

Next morning he packed everything into the car and they set off further along the Gulf of California. They stopped frequently to look at the view. 'Look at this, Abuelo. I could just spend the rest of my life here.' His grandfather seemed a lot happier already. He agreed that it was indeed lovely, but a little too isolated.

That night Tony found a caravan park in Empalme, and set his tent up there. They went to sleep early after the long day. They spent the following two days there, relaxing at the beach and enjoying the cheerful atmosphere of the town in the evening. Crowds of children raced around a playground, music played somewhere. They spoke of previous trips with his family; he got his first laugh out of his grandfather.

The next day they again stopped at a deserted beach in the late afternoon. This time Tony set the tent up in record time. He had bought food which he warmed up, and they ate under the stars again.

'It is so very quiet at home now.' Tony hardly heard the words. 'Just me left waiting to die.'

'Oh, no, Abuelo,' he whispered back, swallowing hard. 'I'll come as often as I can. The others will come too. Wait for us.'

'They'll send you far away, Tony, who knows when you'll get leave.'

'I'll get leave, don't worry about that. And you don't get deployed for too long. I'll write every week.'

His grandfather turned to him with a serious expression. 'You will be ok in the army, I hope? Do as you're told and stay out of trouble.' Tony laughed and promised he would do exactly as he was told and avoid annoying any superior.

The following day they stopped in Mazatlan. They stayed there four days as Tony feared tiring his grandfather, then set off further south. They drove as far as Acapulco, a place Tony had always longed to see, before heading back to his grandfather's home.

It felt good to return to the comfort of a house. Tony spent the last two days repairing things around the house, weeding the gardens and stacking the kitchen cupboards with food. He packed his bag slowly, reluctant to leave the old man alone again.

'Hurry up now, Tony. You can't be late for the army. Go. I'll be alright.' His grandfather gave him a hug. 'I will leave the sheets on your bed.'

Damn, he thought, feeling his eyes mist up. Why was he thinking about his grandfather again? He had tried so hard not to, since his death a few years ago. He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing their tent on the last night of their holiday, just a few feet from the water's edge. How they had woken up cold and their things had been slightly damp. He heard the quiet sentence again, 'They will send you far away, Tony.'

The walls of the cell seemed to move inwards, crushing him.


	8. Chapter Eight

The same guard patrolled the corridor, walking past his cell without acknowledging his presence. Tony wandered how frequently they walked past, having lost track of time since his lunch. He was slipping, he realized. What had they taught in the marines about always keeping alert during captive situations? Keeping a rough track of time, watching for any definable routine, searching for anything out of the ordinary to aid an escape attempt. He laughed bitterly. They had assumed a foreign power to be holding them, or a terrorist group. Following a successful escape they would be welcomed back by their own side. The lesson was not meant for him. Who remained to welcome him back should he ever be forced to escape? Michelle or his parents? Their lives would be subjected to the utmost scrutiny; they would be shadowed wherever they went, making contact with them impossible. If by some chance they did meet him, help him somehow, they would be charged with aiding and abetting, a charge that carried a certain prison sentence. There was no way he would put them in such a position.

He shook his head slightly to clear it. Why should he contemplate escape, he wandered? He fully deserved everything he was about to get. Treason could never be forgiven or forgotten. That was why he would never be allowed to contact any family members should he escape. He would live as a marked man, forever looking over his shoulder, and someday he would slip and be taken back into custody.

He ran the word through his head slowly –treason. The sound made him feel extremely sick. He would graduate from being known as 'the prisoner Almeida' to 'the traitor Almeida.' Imagining that word before his name caused him to lean against the nearest wall and place his head back in his hands.

'Get used to it, Tony' he told himself grimly. 'That way it won't come as a shock when you'll hear yourself referred to that way. They mustn't see your horror.' He whispered it to himself again. 'Traitor Almeida'. It sounded as wrong as it had a moment ago. He would have to practice calling himself that to harden his heart. He would tomorrow, when his bail would be refused.

Refusal of bail would mean he had already been convicted in the minds of the justice department, and the trial would be a mere formality. It would mean the beginning of a life sentence, the trial only serving then to decide whether he would live or die.

He decided to dream about the past again but nothing came. He tried settling down in his familiar corner, he tried sitting on his bed. He closed his eyes firmly and recalled the faces of his family, but still his mind remained stuck in the present. Solid steel bars crowded his thought out. Tony felt the beginning of pure terror. He had to be able to access his memories to survive this awful day.

His heard the steel door opening along the corridor and watched idly, knowing it was too soon for the guard to patrol. 'Please let them decide to bring me pen and paper' he prayed. It would help to relax him, forcing him to focus his thoughts. The second steel door was unlocked and footsteps continued his way. Two footsteps, someone was definitely coming to talk to him. Tony took a few deep breaths, rinsed his face and sat on the bed.

The surly guard was back with the block supervisor. He noticed instantly that neither carried anything for him. The guard moved a few steps behind and to the side of the supervisor, who moved a little closer to his cell. 'Prisoner Almeida, stand up and face the door. Hands behind your back!'

Tony got up slowly and faced the door, placing his hands behind his back as instructed. A hundred questions ran through his mind, but he remained silent, deciding to wait and see how this new scenario would play itself out. The face that met his was blatantly hostile. Cold grey eyes stared into his; he read a message of trouble within them.

'You will rise and face the door with your hands behind your back EVERY TIME I come here. Do you understand, Almeida?'

He nodded. 'I do'

'You will show a little respect while you are here. Everyone in authority is to be addressed by you as 'sir' at all times. I will only warn you once, Almeida. Do you understand me?'

'This guy missed his vocation' Tony thought. 'He would fit in perfectly in the army.'

'Yes sir' he said. He wandered when the man would come to the point of his visit. Or was it his point merely to come and humiliate the former director of CTU? He stood as motionless as the army had taught him and kept his eyes fixed on the empty cell opposite his own.

The block supervisor did not appear to be satisfied. 'You have been placed on report for failing to place your tray in the slot' he said. 'After being ordered to do so you merely sat and wasted several minutes, after which you answered back to your guard. This type of behavior is not tolerated anywhere in this prison, Almeida, and especially not on my block! You have been placed on reduced rations for the next 24 hours.' He paused after his tirade and regarded his prisoner critically.

'Yes sir' Tony replied, sensing some acknowledge was called for. He hoped the man would leave now. Much as he had longed for a distraction, this was proving harder to take than facing his fears alone. He glanced into the man's face. It was plain he had more to say. Tony counted to three mentally and forced his face to go blank. His marine training had taught him to hide his emotions perfectly, though it had not been able to dislodge them.

'I'm glad you understand so quickly, prisoner Almeida. I expected you would, being an intelligent man, used to order. A shame your wife doesn't share your traits.' He fell silent.

A ticking muscle in his cheek betrayed Tony's intense emotion. 'My wife?' he heard himself ask. The supervisor remained silent, enjoying his anxiety. When it was clear he would say nothing more Tony asked him what he meant. 'What happened to my wife?' he asked as politely as he could.

'She takes longer to understand our rules. Much longer. Quite a stubborn woman, I have to say.' A sarcastic smile crept onto his face.

Tony seethed. In a minute he would crush the life out of that smirking bastard. His hands clenched into fists behind his back and he felt his eyes narrow. 'What happened to my wife? Where is she?'

'I wouldn't know where she is exactly at this moment, Almeida, but I know where she has been all morning.' He laughed aloud. 'Hell of a woman, that one. You'd think she could comprehend the words, "not permitted visitors", especially as she is a trained agent. Instead of leaving, as any semi-literate cleaner would, she sits down and decides to wait for the warden, hoping he'll say something different. Then when he also repeats what we've all been telling her all morning, she just asks for ten minutes! Again the warden tells her you're not to see anyone, so she says she's staying till she gets her ten minutes, or someone will have to throw her out.'

Tony felt as through he were being strangled. Michelle had been there all morning, waiting to see him, asking to see him for a few minutes. She had been kept waiting and had been insulted, and was being insulted at this very minute. Insulted here, in front of him!

'How long was she here?' he hissed.

The supervisor gave another smile, reveling in the situation. The Almeidas were livening up an otherwise boring routine. 'Well now, she arrived around 8.00, and she was here till, well, how long was it?' He paused for a few seconds, while Tony's fury rose.

If Michelle had arrived at the prison at 8.00, it meant she hadn't had much sleep at all. She usually took a lot longer to get herself ready to go anywhere on a non-working day. She had come here to see him! She was innocent, she had been extremely brave all through the last disastrous day, and instead of being commended, she had spent the morning waiting in a prison to see her husband.

'When did she leave?' he had to force each word out separately now.

The supervisor glanced at his watch. 'Let's see, it's just past two. Around ten minutes ago. Warden got sick of her by then, waiting outside his office. He orders her out one final time, and she insists she's not leaving, so he calls two guards and they take her out, and lock the gate.' He shook his head in mock sorrow. 'Had to give her quite a push to get moving.'

'You touched my wife?' Tony felt the words in his mouth, but he was no longer aware of conscious thought.

'Had to. Couldn't return with her, now could I? The warden would have been real mad. Those two guards just aren't used to angry women. Anyway, we locked the door after she slipped and fell down…'

Tony had heard enough. In one stride he crossed the space to the bars and grabbed the block supervisor round the throat, crushing the life out of him. The man's face turned red, then purple. His struggles weakened. A tremendous blow to his stomach forced Tony to step backwards and press his arms against his body. The supervisor fell to the floor gasping. Tony vomited up part of his lunch. He was only dimly aware of the guard moving the block supervisor away from the cell and down the corridor.

Michelle had been so close all morning. She must have missed him as badly as he had missed her. Could their thoughts have connected last night? He had almost felt her beside him when he had reached out to touch her face. He straightened out slowly and moved back to the bars. Somewhere, at the end of those two corridors, up the staircase, Michelle had sat, and they had thrown her out. They had touched her. His fury rose again. He shook the bars till their rattling echoed round the corridor.

Several minutes went by as he worked off his rage. Tony slammed his fist into the bars and left them to return to the corner. The two walls supported his weight as he pondered his situation yet again.

His heightened senses registered the distant corridor's door opening. Several footsteps marched along. His own corridor was unlocked. They were coming to deal with him for his assault of the block supervisor.

Tony took a deep breath, hyping himself up for battle. His numbness had passed. He would deal with all of them for insulting Michelle. He welcomed the confrontation.

'Get up, Almeida!' a man in a more distinguished uniform than the block supervisor ordered.

'The warden himself' Tony presumed. He remained in his corner, gazing outside. Six guards accompanied the man. Finally he was being granted a little respect, if not for his previous position then at least for his strength. He stared at the group in silence. He considered doing as he was ordered, but the presence of the warden indicated he was going to be punished whatever happened now. The warden looked furious. He repeated his order.

'Here was the bastard that refused Michelle ten minutes, who had ordered her thrown out!' He would deal with this man. Tony remained in the corner, every muscle perfectly still. He fixed his gaze past the middle of the group.

The warden made a sign and his door was unlocked. Two guards took up position on either side of it, and four crowded in. He noticed the warden remained outside. Tony supported his back steadily in the corner and stared directly at the warden.

'This is your last chance, Almeida. Turn round and face the wall. Put your hands behind your back!'

Tony remained in the corner, flexing his muscles. He would only have to deal with two at once from that position. He could deal with that comfortably. Normally he could have taken all four, he knew, but he wasn't in peak condition.

'Try anything, Almeida, and they'll hold your bail hearing without you' said the warden. 'I'll fill out a form on your uncooperative behavior and you won't get to see your wife from a distance tomorrow either. Think about it. How would she feel expecting to see you, if you didn't show?'

Tony considered the scenario. He could picture Michelle sitting in the audience waiting for him to be led in. She would probably be seating next to his parents, he was certain she would have told them all about the previous day by now. If he wasn't permitted to attend they would be worried as well as devastated. They would spend the following weeks convinced he was hurt, concerned he was being held in some dark hole. Michelle would call everyone above her to get information about him, they would all refuse her. He sighed heavily. The warden had known his weak spot all along and had played it. Very slowly he straightened, faced the wall and placed his hands behind his back.

Rough hands pinned him to the wall, holding him so tightly his face was pressed into the bricks. 'Bring him to the front' the warden instructed his guards. He was pulled across the cell and slammed into the bars. A jolt of pain ran through his neck as it impacted with a bar. 'Pull his hands through' ordered the warden. His hands were forced through the bars by the two guards who waited outside. Steel handcuffs were immediately placed on his wrists, shackling him to the front wall, facing his cell. Once he was secured the warden tightened the cuffs until they squeezed deep into his skin.

'You'll learn to move when you're told, Almeida, one way or the other' he was told. 'You can spend the next three hours here staring at the wall and remembering to do as you're ordered.' There was a moment's silence as the warden entered his cell and stood directly in front of him. 'Antonio Almeida, you are charged with the assault of your block supervisor. The assault was both unprovoked and ruthless. Should you by some miracle be granted bail tomorrow he will file charges against you. If you remain our guest, as I fully expect you shall, we will wait for the doctor to certify your clean bill of health. Following that, you will be sent to our punishment cell for two weeks. That's the maximum!'

The warden left the cell, followed by all four guards. His door clanged shut directly next to him, shaking the wall he was shackled to. He heard their footsteps receding down the corridor and leaving through the door.

Tony's thought were in turmoil. He forced himself to relax, breathing deeply and slowly till he could concentrate on the new situation. Apparently a prisoner under treatment from the doctor could not be punished too harshly. Only that medical form had kept him from getting acquainted with the so-called "punishment cell". Still, he had a strong feeling the reprieve was only temporary. At best he would be certified fully fit within a week.

His wrists felt sore squashed as they were through the bars and held in a vice like grip by the cuffs. The fact that handcuffs were to be used solely as a means of restraint rather than to inflict physical pain meant nothing here. What his wrists would look like after three hours didn't bear consideration.

Tony turned his head against the bars trying to find the least uncomfortable position to rest it in. Eventually he decided just leaning straight back was the best he could do. To think he had found boot camp hard, he thought wryly. At least there had always been an end in sight, even during his hardest few weeks. The rest of his life seemed utterly bleak.


	9. Chapter Nine

The base seemed quiet as Tony approached. Lights glowed from windows, and the stars and stripes fluttered in the breeze. Buildings lay in a confused jumble stretching as far as he could see. Some of the better lit ones had large open spaces before them while others seemed to be crowded together in semi-darkness, connected by narrow roads.

'You sure you're ok?' Marco inquired. 'I've never seen a comedy where the guy arrives late to boot camp. You really want to go in?'

'They're expecting me.' He lingered beside Marco for another minute before leaving the car. Marco leaned out of his window and watched him.

'Into the lion's den!' he said. Tony rolled his eyes, gave him a hug and grabbed his bag. With final instructions to Marco to be helpful at home he walked over to the gate. A soldier sitting inside a booth gave him a disinterested look.

'I'm Tony Almeida' Tony began. 'I was supposed to be here this morning.'

This time he got a reaction. The soldier stared in horror. 'You're late.' That statement was almost whispered. He picked up the phone and gave Tony's name. Tony turned to watch Marco drive away. 'Wait here. Someone will come for you.'

He wasn't left to wait for long. A close cropped red haired man in khaki uniform appeared. Each stride indicated annoyance. 'You Almeida?' he barked.

'Yeah' Tony agreed.

'Yes Sir,' he yelled at the top of his lungs. Tony resisted the urge to rub his ringing left ear.

'Do you have any idea of the time? Of how late you are?' he yelled. All the time he spoke he was walking towards one of the closer buildings. Tony was almost forced to run to keep up with him.

He did the calculation in his head. 'Nine hours, Sir.'

They paused before what Tony learned was the receiving barracks. 'Get inside.' A long room met his gaze full of desks not unlike a room set for school exams. In the front stood a couple of metal tables with neat piles of paper stacked on them. A solitary clerk remained. Tony was marched up to him.

'Process this clown,' barked his sergeant. 'Then get him over to Lieutenant Anderson.' He returned his glare to Tony. 'Sit. I've had many clowns like you before, but I've got to admit it, Almeida –you win the prize. NOBODY was this late in camp history.' Tony sat on a wooden chair. This guy was as mad as he'd imagined. 'Where the hell have you been?'

'Sir' he thought it best to placate the sergeant by using the title, 'it was unintentional. Border control's computers were down –there was a line several miles long. It took forever.'

The sergeant's mouth fell open. 'You were AWOL because of a holiday abroad?' he thundered.

'AWOL?' Tony wandered. He hadn't even arrived yet.

Papers were laid in front of him. He answered basic biographical details such as his name, date of birth and next of kin. While the clerk filled them in wearily the sergeant kept repeating; 'AWOL. I'm sorry for you, son. Oh yes, very sorry.' He threw Tony an evil smile. After a while the veiled threats had their desired effect of rattling him. What in the world was this lieutenant going to do to him? The questions began to irritate him. He'd already filled in this exact same form at the recruitment office. Couldn't they find it?

'Your name?' the clerk appeared as bored as he was.

'Let me see, who could I be?' he asked. 'I know' he held up a finger. 'Atahualpa'

The clerk's eyes flickered towards the sergeant. It seemed the sergeant had been waiting for this opportunity for the past half hour.

'Almeida' he roared. 'You're on report for holding up processing.'

Tony sighed. Things were beginning to look a little bleak. He answered the remaining questions correctly. After a while the sergeant left. He was assigned to B Company in the Second training battalion. The clerk gave him a platoon number which he was ordered to commit to memory. Finally he rose.

'You're to see Lieutenant Anderson now.' He led Tony to a brightly lit building. A clerk sat typing at a desk in the reception area. 'Lieutenant Anderson wanted to see Almeida' his clerk said, and left Tony alone.

He was ordered to wait. His eyes examined the few military posters on the walls. Each of them depicted marines in various training situations. The door soon opened. The clerk told him to enter.

Tony stepped through the open door. A blonde haired young man was looking at some of the completed forms. He was kept waiting for a moment. He tried to recall all the army movies he'd seen, to guess at his possible punishment.

'So, Almeida' Lieutenant Anderson began, laying aside an open form. 'You were nine hours late. That technically makes you AWOL. Under military law it's a serious offence. However,' he glanced at Tony, 'I will show some leniency in this situation. Your next leave is cancelled. Now go to your barracks. I suggest you obey Sergeant Wills totally. I don't want to hear your name again. Dismissed.'

Tony's cheeks burned as he turned to leave. Here was a man who commanded total respect, being just a few years older than himself. He resolved never to go to this office for a dressing down again. Map in hand he found the barracks he was assigned to.

Sergeant Wills was yelling at a group of marines who all stood ramrod stiff in front of their bunks. Tony listened to the tirade from halfway through the door. 'Not bad' he couldn't help thinking. 'This guy could even act himself in a movie.' A gust of wind blew the handle out of his hand, slamming the door. Everyone stared at him.

'Ah, you've joined us, Almeida.' The sergeant appeared disappointed. He waved him towards a bunk. 'Now, who can fill Almeida in on what I've been saying?'

The next ten minutes passed with Tony watching various marines being dismissed as fools unable to remember the simplest instructions. 'Let me begin again for the benefit of Almeida.' Not a groan was heard –they just cast him dark looks. 'My name is Drill Sergeant Wills. I will instruct you in exercise and combat. In time, those of you still alive will become marines. In time. Looking round me now, I think it will be a very long time. You will learn to be tidy' he paused before a marine whose bunk was perfect as far as Tony could tell. 'You will learn to obey orders immediately.' He stood before another man. 'You will learn to appear on time. You will keep all wise comments to yourself.' These last two sentences were addressed to Tony. 'Now we will be up nice and early tomorrow –so get some sleep.'

'Sir yes sir' everyone roared.

'I didn't hear you' roared the sergeant, placing a hand behind his ear. Tony bit his lip to keep from grinning. The guy was good, though that last sentence was heard in every army movie. Couldn't he come up with something original?

'Almeida' yelled the sergeant, spinning around and catching his smirk. 'Step forward!'

Tony obeyed, wandering how he could possibly have been spotted from behind. He stood at attention while Sergeant Wills circled him. 'You find me amusing, Almeida?'

'No sir' he replied quickly.

'Incorrect answer' roared the sergeant. 'What should he say?'

'Sir, no sir' yelled everyone. The sergeant turned back to Tony. 'Sir, no sir' he said loudly.

'Eyes forward!' bellowed the sergeant. 'Have I dismissed you?'

'Sir, no sir' he said as loudly as he could, hoping he would soon be allowed to return to his bunk.

'You, Almeida, already have KP tomorrow. It seems that's not enough for you! Stand up straight.' Tony forced himself straighter. 'That's no way to stand at attention. We'll work on that tonight. Outside!'

Everyone went to bed while he followed Sergeant Wills outside. A lamp lit the surrounding darkness. They stopped in its bright glow. 'Now Almeida –attention!' Tony straightened himself and squared his shoulders. He was examined critically. 'Alright –I can't expect miracles. Now I hear that Latinos like to sleep all afternoon and stay up half the night. So you'll be fine here. That there's my window. I'll be watching you. Move as much as one muscle and you'll be on KP the rest of the week.' He returned to the barracks and left Tony by himself.

Silence reigned. He examined the barracks in front of him. All the windows were dim. Could Sergeant Wills really be watching him? He doubted it, but dared not find out. Time passed. His body felt stiff. He let himself relax a little. The barrack's door was flung open. Tony straightened hurriedly. Sergeant Wills walked around him, and, apparently satisfied, left him without a comment. Tony, expecting to be excused, was disappointed.

Instincts dulled by exhaustion, he missed the barrack door's opening. Sergeant Wills was upon him before he had time to straighten out.

'Well, well Almeida' he said, a shade quieter now. 'I bother to get out of bed at 01.00 hours to dismiss you, and what do I find? You seem to think you've already been dismissed. Stooping forward and rubbing your eyes in NOT the way to stand at attention. What do you think this is, a retirement village? You need a lot more practice, and I'll see you get it. Dismissed!'

Tony stumbled to his bunk, fell under his blanket, and was asleep within seconds.

Loud clanging woke him, echoing through the barracks. He heard curses and groans and felt his own bunk sway. Half asleep and fighting to stay that way, he pulled his blanket over his head. The noise receded as he fell back asleep.

His sleep was banished by his blanket being ripped from him. 'Almeida' he heard. He forced his eyes open to find the sergeant standing above him. Slowly he sat up, noting the marines standing at attention beside their bunks.

'What order did I just give?' He leaned closer to Tony.

'Sir, I don't know sir' he replied.

'Incorrect again! What should he say?' he demanded of the group. 'You, Garcia, you were here on time yesterday. Tell him.'

'Sir, you told us we were no longer allowed to call ourselves "I". He should have said "the private".'

'Very good, Garcia. Make sure you inform your "friend" of all these points. Now then, what do you say, Almeida?'

'I am a person' Tony thought bitterly. He raised his head. 'Sir, the private doesn't know, sir' he answered, attempting to hide his resentment.

Sergeant Wills remained in front of him. 'What order did I just give, Davis?'

'Sir, attention, sir' a rough looking red –neck said.

'Now stand at attention. Hold it!' Tony paused on his way to stand in front of his bunk in a row with the others. 'What the hell are you doing dressed up?' Once again Wills stood in front of him. 'You never bothered to undress, did you?' A few snickers sounded. 'You're on report. Now I want you all outside –dressed – in ten minutes.'

They all stood outside ten minutes later, trying to wake up properly in the darkness. 'Now we're going on a little run, just to freshen up before breakfast' Wills said. 'Anyone falling behind will miss breakfast. Let's move!'

An hour later they returned to barracks, too weary to complain. They were given ten minutes to shower and change before moving to the mess hall. After breakfast they were marched back to their barracks.

'Now we'll learn how to tidy up. How to store things properly. I will inspect this place in one hour. If I find one thing out of place –you're on report.'

They chatted a bit as they tidied up. Tony spent some time getting acquainted with Halliday, who slept in the top bunk, and with Garcia, who came to apologize for inadvertently mocking him.

Sergeant Wills returned. He inspected everything, placed a couple of them on report, then opened the bathroom door. 'What do I see here?' he yelled. 'I see water sloshed out, I see soap suds! I see spots on the mirrors. Disgraceful.' He turned to survey them all.

'Almeida, you're on report –so here's your first task. Open that cupboard, get a mop, bucket and cloth, and clean up. If that bathroom isn't shining in half an hour you'll regret it. Now move.'

Tony had cleaned up often enough at home to find what he needed easily. He carried them to the bathroom, filled the bucket with water, poured in a little detergent and set about mopping the floor. Next he poured water on the mirrors and rubbed them dry with a cloth. Even Sergeant Wills appeared satisfied with the result.

He sent them all over to medical, ordering Tony to go to the barber and join them later. He appeared to be the only customer that day, and watched as his hair was shaven. He stared at his reflection in silence, cheering himself with the thought that it would soon grow back.

Consulting his map, he made his way over to medical. He recognized a few from the platoon. Halliday grinned at him and shook his head. 'You looked better before.'

'Yeah,' sighed Tony. 'Guess I'll have to find a different barber!'

Halliday laughed and let Tony into the queue ahead of him. Nobody behind objected. Surprised, he asked what exactly was happening inside. Halliday told him there were some physical tests and some shots.

'Shots' echoed Tony nervously. He glanced around. There was no sign of the sergeant. 'Ah, I got to get something. I won't be long,' Tony told him and eased his way out of the queue. With a bit of luck Wills would assume he was still at the barber. Now all he had to do was find a quiet spot for half an hour or so.

'Almeida, where the hell are you going?' yelled a voice he had come to hate. He turned to find Wills bearing down on him. 'Running away from the doctor, are we? There's one every year,' he commented to the queue, raising a laugh. 'Now get back in line.'

Slowly he moved to where Wills pointed, to the end of the queue, expecting to be told he was on report. He was pleasantly surprised to have escaped so easily.

The shots were every bit as bad as he'd feared. A doctor sternly pointed him to a chair and wiped his arm with a sterile cloth. A needle was jabbed into him. He almost winced. A second needle was administered almost on top of the first, then another was jabbed into his second arm. Tony left medical feeling sorry for himself.

As soon as he emerged they were sent back to the receiving barracks and ordered to sit at the wooden desks. 'Now for your IQ tests, to see how dumb you are' Sergeant Wills told them.

Tony settled into this test easily. Question 1: If Jill sets off for school two minutes before Mary, walking at five miles an hour, while Mary walks at eight miles an hour, who would reach school, which is five miles away first? 'Sounds like home on a hectic morning,' he thought nostalgically. 'And there's no way to answer it so simply. It depends how often Jane will stop for pretty flowers, and how many stones Marco will find in his shoe.' He forced his concentration back to the test. After answering the first page he looked round the room. He spotted Garcia just behind him chewing on his pen. Their supervisor walked towards the other end of the room. Tony turned and raised his eyebrow questioningly. Garcia shook his head and ran a finger across his throat. Tony pushed his paper as close to him as could and watched his answers being copied down.

'Thanks, Almeida' Garcia told him as they sat at lunch. 'I never spent much time at school.'

'Don't mention it,' he replied.

Boot camp. So many years ago, yet still so fresh in his memory. Strange how he had hated Sergeant Wills back then, he reflected. He had prepared him for combat in hostile lands, and had taught them all survival skills. Sergeant Wills neglected nothing in his training, teaching the final art of suicide in an impossible situation towards the end of the course. At the time he had brushed it off as one more lesson to be remembered, and never applied. Tony closed his eyes and dug his fingernails deep into his palms. There was no need to recall that final lesson yet. He stared at the back wall of the cell, and focused on the rest of the training he had received at boot camp and the humiliation Wills had caused him daily. At the final nod of acceptance he had received in the hospital.


	10. Chapter Ten

Those first few weeks flew past in a blur. Tony learned how to shoot at a stationary target, how to cross swamps on moving logs, and how to present his rifle at inspection. He made firm friends with Halliday, a keen surfer, and kept his eye out for Garcia. He lost count of the number of times he was forced to stand at attention in front of his bunk, clean the bathroom, or sweep the yard. Even Wills' yelling began to appear normal.

He received a pile of letters from his family which he re-read several times in the evenings. John wrote too –a postcard from Australia where he was 'playing some serious tennis.' Only his grandfather remained silent which worried him more with every passing day. Tony resolved to call him as soon as he got a couple of hours leave.

'Almeida, he's coming.' Tony grabbed the bin he had laid down and picked it up. Halliday picked up the next one. Sergeant Wills appeared. He glanced critically round the yard. 'Alright, clean enough. Off to training.'

Sergeant Wills appeared to be in a foul mood that morning. He yelled at everyone for the slightest mistake. He ran them on logs over muddy swamps, yelling whenever someone was about to negotiate the difficult jump, and yelling even louder if they were unfortunate enough to fall in. Garcia naturally slipped and was sent back. Tony, having no problem negotiating the slippery logs, chatted with Halliday. He watched Garcia falling in again in the exact same spot as previously, earning the full wrath of Wills. He saw Garcia's desperate look.

Tony laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder and spoke a few words in Spanish.

'Almeida' Wills roared. 'What language have I ordered you to speak?'

'Sir, English sir' he replied.

'Then do so. You're on report. Move, Garcia. Let's get it right. There's a "crocodillo" in that there swamp. Now jump over.'

Tony's face flushed. It was obvious to him that Garcia just needed silence to concentrate on the jump. Equally obvious was that he was not going to get it. He decided on the spur of the moment to distract Wills for a few seconds. He let his rifle slip to the ground, drawing a tirade of abuse from his irritated sergeant. He watched Garcia make it across during his dressing down. When they moved to the next exercise he was made to carry his rifle above his head. He was ordered to jog back and forth in that position while everyone in the platoon had a turn at climbing a rope onto a swaying wooden bridge. Wills excused him only when all the others had finished.

Tony's arms had cramped after holding his rifle up for the past hour, and he slipped off the rope. Once again Wills yelled at him. 'Almeida, what the hell is your problem today? Get up that rope this instant.' With Wills yelling the whole time he climbed the rope. He negotiated the swaying bridge without incident and climbed down the second rope. He sank down thankfully.

'Almeida.'

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a second before rising. 'Sir, yes sir.'

'Too slow. Back up that rope!' he was ordered.

'Now then, the enemy won't stand around watching this dismal performance. They are armed, they will shoot. I will shoot blanks only. Don't get hit –it might hurt. Now up that rope.'

They climbed as fast as they could, every one of them getting hit at least once. Wills had them stand at attention and cursed them for a full ten minutes. 'Dead, every one of you dead. What the hell use would you be in a war.?' Tony glanced idly at his watch. Another half hour till lunch, he noted. They would be returning soon. 'Almeida' he heard his name yelled. 'Front and centre.'

'You know,' he whispered to Halliday. 'I'm getting sick of my own name.' Halliday burst out laughing.

'Almeida, on the double.'

'Yep, I'll definitely change it,' he joked softly.

'You too, Halliday!' He glared at them both as they stood in front of him. 'Did I give you permission to open your mouth, Almeida?'

'Sir, no sir' yelled Tony.

'And yet you opened it. You also distracted Private Halliday, who has a problem paying attention at the best of times. And what the hell did you think you were doing staring at your watch. What are you expecting?'

Tony stood ramrod straight, eyes fixed ahead. He remained silent.

His name was yelled louder. Sergeant Wills demanded an answer. 'Sir, lunch sir.'

'Lunch!' exclaimed the D.I. as though it were an alien concept. 'Well, you can dream about it all you like Almeida -you've just missed it. You too, Halliday. Now you clowns seem to have a lot of energy left –it shouldn't be wasted. On your knees!' They knelt in the dirt. 'I want a hundred push-ups. Move!'

When they were incapable of doing any more, Wills ordered them into the 'swamp' under the wooden bridge. 'On your knees. Now you two seem to think boot camp is a joke. I tell you –you are the joke. Pick up that mud. Throw it in the air. On the double, Almeida.'

Tony stared at a cockroach slithering beside him in disgust. 'Move.' Slowly he placed his hands in the mud and threw a little in the air. 'More. Throw it higher,' demanded Wills. The rest of the platoon watched them in silence. More mud was thrown, landing on Tony's hair, face and clothes. When they were totally covered Wills allowed them to quit, ordering the entire platoon back to barracks.

No shower felt as good as the one Tony stood under, scrubbing his hair. He pressed his eyes shut and scrubbed his eyebrows. Brown water trailed down the shower floor. He no longer noticed its chill.

'Give me a warm beach to a muddy hole' sighed Halliday. Tony nodded in complete accord with the sentiment. 'You know, if I would've tried throwing mud around like that my mother would've given me such a smack,' he said. He wandered fleetingly what she would have said to Wills had she witnessed the previous hour.

'Alright, you clowns, that's enough.' They dressed in clean uniforms and were made to stand at attention beside their bunks while the rest of the platoon went to lunch.

After lunch they were marched out to the shooting range. Tony relaxed. For some inexplicable reason he had discovered he had a talent for shooting that by week six had surpassed even those of the red-necks, whom he suspected of being born with a gun. He had become the favorite of Sergeant Jenkins.

'Today we try firing at moving targets,' Jenkins told them. 'Your enemy is not always going to be shooting from behind cover. If fired upon in the open –you MUST hit them accurately first time.' A succession of moving dummies was pulled across the range. They all attempted to hit them.

'Almeida,' Sergeant Jenkins called. Tony went to stand in front of him. 'You are close –you hit a few –but you are just a fraction too late. Don't let the motion distract you. Look at the movement. Project their position and aim there. Try it again.'

Tony picked a dummy, watched its zigzag pattern, and aimed. He squeezed the trigger. 'Well done, Almeida, you got it,' Jenkins cried. 'You blew the bastard's brains out! Now kill the rest.'

Gradually the rest of the platoon faded out. Tony was aware only of his rifle and the moving targets. By the time they were ordered to finish, every dummy held one of his bullets in their heads.

Jenkins was thrilled. 'You'll make a fine marine' he praised Tony. Having heard nothing but the opposite for the previous six weeks, Tony stared in amazement. 'Oh yes, son, you've got a talent for shooting. Now if you'd just learn to keep your mouth shut you'd do great here.'

Sergeant Wills arrived and they spoke for a while. The platoon made the most of a couple of free minutes. Tony felt happy for the first time since his arrival at the camp. If only he had something to eat it would be a great day. He felt something soft pressed into his left hand. Staring down he was startled to find a nylon wrapped sandwich.

'Eat it' Garcia told him, blocking him from Wills' line of sight. 'It's the most worthless thing I've ever stolen, but I thought you could use it.'

'You were a thief?' Tony exclaimed in surprise.

'I was. Last time I nearly got caught –so I decided to find something better to do.'

'Do you think you deserve a vacation?' yelled Wills. Tony finished the remainder of his sandwich in a gulp. They were ordered into line and Wills led them off at their usual steady jog, several miles around the course and over to a steep hill. He spent the next hour watching them jogging up and down.

The sun shone through a layer of grey cloud, hazy and humid. Tony's clean uniform was soaked with sweat. 'Why have you stopped, Almeida?' Wills called. 'Did I order a rest period? Move it!'

Tony set off up the hill at a slower pace. 'He's nuts' he told Halliday in passing. 'He thinks he's the Grand Old Duke of York!' His friend nodded, not daring to grin. A stocky marine gave them a dirty look.

'Almeida' Sergeant Wills beckoned as he returned. Tony ran to stand in front of him expecting to be taken to task for his slowness.

'You like nursery rhyme characters, I understand,' Wills began deceptively quietly. Tony was horrified –there was no way humanly possible he could have been overheard. Davis gave him a smirk and turned away. He would deal with him that evening, he resolved.

'You compare me to a certain duke' Wills continued, louder. The remainder of the platoon took the opportunity to pause. 'We can play "Grand Old Duke of York" if you like. I'll be the duke –and you'll march up and down the hill. Go get your backpack –a full kit. Leave one thing out, Almeida; I'll personally bury you on the hill! Now go. You have ten minutes.'

Tony had to run at full speed to get back to the barracks in time. Gasping for breath he grabbed his backpack and packed everything into it and lifted it onto his shoulders. He adjusted the weight as well as he could and walked back.

'Three minutes late' roared Wills. 'Now then, up the hill. Go!'

Climbing the steep hill with a full kit proved hard work. His backpack kept pulling him backwards, and his heart threatened to burst by the time he reached the top. He paused to gasp for breath before beginning his descent. This proved even harder than the ascent. The backpack kept pushing him down, causing him to stumble. His foot caught on an uneven piece of ground, and the backpack propelled him forward. He threw his arms out to break his fall. A moment passed while he took a few deep breaths, before rising to his feet, steadying his pack and continuing down. Wills pointed him back up the hill. Once again Tony began to climb. He pack rubbed against his shoulders.

'Now then, you've got an hour free. Use it wisely. Dismissed!' The platoon dispersed; glad of the hour they had to themselves.

Wills settled himself on the ground. 'Keep moving, Almeida. I'm beginning to enjoy this game!'

The next hour seemed to crawl past. Tony struggled more with each succeeding trip. His shoulders hurt where the straps began cutting grooves into them. Occasionally he would pause to attempt to adjust the weight better, but if made little difference –after a couple of steps the straps slid back where he had removed them from. Each trip took longer –until Wills yelled at him and he picked up the pace. The sky turned darker and a few drops of rain fell. Tony turned his face upwards welcoming the coolness. A few minutes later it turned into a steady drizzle. His problems increased. The trampled grass became slippery, causing him to slide several feet at a time.

Sergeant Wills pulled on a raincoat and watched him struggle on. 'Move it Almeida' he roared whenever sheeting rain forced him to slow to a crawl. 'Not exactly fiesta weather,' he commented once as Tony reached the bottom of the hill. Darkness arrived. 'Now, Almeida, I'm off to dinner. When I return I'll expect to find you marching up and down that hill. If I catch you slacking off you'll spend the rest of the night out here.'

Once he left Tony removed his backpack and sank down, oblivious to the downpour. He laid his head on his backpack and breathed heavily. Something warned him to rise half an hour later. He lifted his backpack and spotted a figure heading towards him.

Wills kept him out a further two hours before he was dismissed.

He stood under the shower too exhausted to get out and find his clothes. The thought of unpacking his backpack's contents nearly made him cry.

'Almeida.' Halliday threw him a towel. 'Come out. Wills will be here any second. You don't want to get busted again, do you?'

He rubbed himself dry, wincing when he got to his shoulders. The towel came away red. Tony examined the damage in the mirror. Both shoulders showed angry red stripes, the right one was rubbed slightly raw. He patted it dry.

Wills entered the barracks seconds after he left the bathroom. He stumbled to his place. Now he would be blasted for leaving his full backpack on the floor. The sergeant approached, gave him a hard stare and continued. Only after he left did Tony notice all his things had been unpacked and stowed neatly away.

The following weeks saw him turn into a real marine. His shooting improved daily. He could run faster and for greater distances than at any time before. He learned the rudiments of hand-to-hand combat and the use of a knife for self- defense. He gradually saw himself as one member of their platoon, one unit functioning to aid the whole.

He counted the rows of bricks from top to bottom, and from side to side. He examined every inch of the floor. Even his bed seemed inviting, now that he was unable to get to it. Tony's face burned with a mild fever, he gazed at the sink longingly. 'I just need a little drink' he muttered. The tap dripped steadily, every drop wasted.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Hell could possibly be warmer, Tony thought as he watched the shimmering air above the valley. Possibly, but not definitely. Or maybe they were already there. 'That's it,' he decided. Sergeant Wills had discovered a short-cut to hell and had naturally jumped at the chance to train them to function here as well. Yet another bead of sweat trickled under his helmet into his eyes. They burned. No moisture remained to blink it clear. That had been used up to wash out the sand and fine red dust blowing into his eyes since dawn. Naturally they had been following a road against the wind, pausing an hour earlier in the doubtful shade of a rock for lunch. He had drained half his water bottle before Sergeant Wills pulled him to his feet yelling. That water was to last the entire afternoon. He'd screwed the top back on and leaned against the rock for a few moments of rest. Sergeant Wills appeared hot himself and allowed them a grand total of ten minutes to rest. They had continued their march towards a hill in a chain which surrounded the valley.

If they were in hell, so was that hill, Tony thought. Despite their moving towards it all morning it appeared no closer. Even the birds they had spotted around dawn had disappeared, leaving only the grasshoppers chirping to indicate they were still on planet Earth. He waved another few flies away. They flew off his face onto his arms. He cursed them silently.

'Company halt' yelled the sergeant. This order was obeyed willingly by every man present. 'Take cover.' Tony unscrewed his water bottle and turned it upside down in a vain attempt to coax out another drop. They remained flat in the dust on either side of the road.

'The enemy has spotted us' yelled Sergeant Wills, pointing towards the deserted hills. 'They're launching a gas attack. What do you suggest we do?'

'Surrender' Tony thought silently. The company waited wordless for whatever new torture awaited them. Tony had a dreadful feeling he knew what that would be. He was correct.

'Gas masks. Gas masks on. Move it.' He continued yelling while they removed their backpacks and retrieved their gas mask cases. 'Move it, you'll be dead in another second, move it.' He paused before Tony who remained seated beside his backpack rubbing his swollen eyes. 'Where the hell is your gas mask, Almeida?'

He pulled his backpack open and removed the case. 'Too slow' yelled the sergeant. 'Out in a combat situation you'd be dead. Here you'll just wish you were. You're on report.' Tony was past caring about being on report yet again. He used his final ounce of strength to put on his gas mask.

'Do you imagine the whole bleeding battle has stopped?' yelled the sergeant –staring at the men sitting in their gas masks. 'Our objective hasn't changed. Move it. We're to secure that hill.'

They trudged on again more uncomfortable than before. The flies seemed irritated by their denied access to his nose and mouth and settled on the gas mask's front glass instead. He ignored them. The road sloped upwards and the men forced themselves along in silence. Tony paused to tie one of his boots on firmer. It had been undone for the past few minutes while he waited for the sergeant to move to the front.

'Almeida' he heard his name being screamed, 'move it! It's not siesta time.'

It was precisely that time, Tony thought, hating Sergeant Wills and his constant mocking of everything 'non American'. He finished tying his boot laces and stood up. Most of the others were way ahead. He was ordered to run to catch up with them. Sweat oozed under his gas mask.

'Move it Garcia. You can take a siesta up there' yelled Wills. But Garcia had reached his limit. He lagged further and further behind and sank down. Tony hurried back. He helped Garcia to his feet and supported him.

'Come on. It's not much further. We're already half-way up!' He half pulled, half dragged Garcia the final few miles. Lieutenant Anderson waited for them at the camp site. He had flown in by helicopter an hour ago.

'Sir, they're here' Wills said. 'The slowest time we've logged in marine history!'

'Wills, we're had a record temperature today. It's 125 degrees. In the shade.'

Tony felt queasy. He rushed behind the nearest rock, leaned down and vomited up his lunch. He rolled onto his back and breathed slow deep breaths. His eyes were shut against the relentless glare of the sun. The earth spun around. It would pass, he knew. He just needed a minute.

Ice cold water poured on his face shocked him into motion. Wills stood above him. He'd had that water all along –he could have shared out a little to each of them –but instead he had carried it uphill to pour out. Tony's hatred of him grew.

'Found a quiet spot for a siesta ah Almeida' he said disgustedly. 'You should go join some other country's army, one of our southern neighbours', you'd fit in well there.'

'I told you I'm American' Tony hissed.

'Drink that!' They both turned to see Lieutenant Anderson. He pushed a bottle into Tony's hands. Cool water trickled into his mouth, releasing his parched tongue. He swallowed slowly.

They were given a few minutes rest before Sergeant Wills insisted they set up camp. Tents were opened, sleeping bags rolled out and backpacks stashed neatly. Ration packs were broken open and dinner was eaten. Jokes were cracked about each other's appearance in gas masks.

Six o'clock approached. Tony sighed. He was getting comfortable in the shade and enjoyed the conversation which had turned to baseball. Yet he knew better than to risk Wills' wrath, so he went to stand quietly in front of his tent.

At precisely six Wills unzipped his tent and almost showed disappointment at seeing Tony. 'Ah, you can tell the time, Almeida!' Tony remained silent. Wills looked cheated. 'You have a problem with gas-masks, I noticed. Now Davies here' he grabbed the newly appointed corporal, 'will watch you practice putting it on till you can do so fast enough.'

Tony spent the next two hours taking his gas-mask from its case, placing it on his head, removing it and replacing it in its case. Wills watched him for a while before wandering off. Davies gave him no respite. As Tony grew weary and slowed down a little he told him off as harshly as Wills would have done.

'Give me a break, Davies' he muttered. 'My fingers can't open that case so fast anymore.'

'Move it Almeida, or I'll put you on report!' Davis yelled importantly.

Tony pulled his mask on yet again. A couple of the others had heard Davis and looked at him in disgust.

After being dismissed he threw himself onto his sleeping bag. Being yelled at by Wills was one thing, but by Davis? To jump when that moron called his name? He banged his fist into the ground several times to work off his frustration.

He took over guard duty at eleven o'clock. Everyone else had settled hours ago. Millions of insects chirped around him. Tony gazed at the stars so clearly visible in this wilderness. The only 'enemy' to be watched for was Sergeant Wills, but he was busy talking to their lieutenant. He missed his family.

He was relieved a couple of hours later and curled up in his sleeping-bag. The desert night was surprisingly chilly. 'Enjoy it, Tony,' he told himself. 'It will be hot again tomorrow.'

They were woken at dawn the next day. The sun's orange rays painted the hills orange –nothing but orange and red as far as he could see. It would be the perfect location to film a Mars landing for a movie, he decided.

'Almeida.' Tony jumped and instantly cursed himself for it. When would he learn to turn calmly? It was only Sergeant Wills yelling about some minor point.

'We don't have time to compose an opera! If your tent isn't folded by the time the others are ready, you'll miss breakfast. Move!'

He folded his tent and rolled up his sleeping-bag rapidly, and managed to get to the breakfast queue with nearly a minute to spare.

'Now today we will practice the art of "disappearing",' Lieutenant Anderson said. 'Let's say we were on a mission that's gone wrong, and air support can't retrieve us. The enemy will be upon our position in an hour. We have to lie low till back-up arrives. I will give you exactly an hour to hide yourselves. Afterwards Sergeant Wills and I will look for you. Then we'll discuss each hiding place's merits. Now go.'

Tony ran a little downhill then paused. Where could he conceal himself in this wilderness? There were no caves in the rocks. There were few hollow spots at all. He moved lower. The time flew. Finally he chose a spot near the base of the hill, digging himself into the sand at an angle that would get the maximum shade. He placed a couple of rocks over his head allowing himself to breath without being spotted.

It proved an easier morning than the previous one. After a while he began to feel slightly bored but decided to remain hidden. He saw his fellow marines searching for him. It was after three when Lieutenant Anderson pulled his rocks away.

'Congratulations Almeida. I actually had to use my tracking skills to find you. Alright, fall out, let's get some lunch!'

Tony was teased by the others on the walk back up the hill and had to listen to a few good natured grumbles about the delayed lunch.

After lunch Lieutenant Anderson pointed out a few hiding spots and helped them conceal themselves. Tony found himself enjoying this exercise – first time he ever enjoyed anything apart from shooting in the army.

'Now tomorrow is our final day here. We will practice retrieval. Get some sleep.'

'Well Almeida, you know how to hide alright' Davis told him as they re-opened their tents. 'Doesn't exactly surprise me. We'll see how you go scouting ahead.'

Tony laid down his tent in a heap on the floor and turned to him. 'You know what, Davis? I'm even better at retrieval than at retreat!'

Garcia came to chat before they were ordered to rest. He watched Davis walk away and saw Tony's suppressed fury. 'Hey Almeida,' he said, laying a restraining hand on his arm. 'Let it go. Some ignorant red-neck just made corporal. He doesn't count.'

Tony nodded. It just wasn't worth getting extra drill for. 'I'll deal with him once we leave the army' he vowed.

Garcia laughed at him. 'Think you'll last that long?'

Tony found himself grinning back. 'No' he said.

A strong wind howled round their camp the next dawn. Sand and dust made their way into every piece of clothing and equipment, including their food. They would be fortunate to find their way back to camp – let alone find a hidden object, Tony thought wryly, crunching sand with his breakfast.

Sergeant Wills told them they were seeking an old military plane that had crashed here before the Second World War. He assured them it was still visible. They were to pair up and the first team that would locate it would get a day's leave. Tony determined to win. He missed his family so much it hurt.

'Trick is to find the direction the plane flew from and its scheduled destination,' he told Garcia. Then we avoid any unnecessary wandering around –we'll simply plot its course.'

'What if it veered off course?'

'At least it's a start' Tony replied. 'It's a military plane. That limits the number of possible take-off points. It wouldn't have come from the south or the west, so, we start that way.' He pointed north east.

They set off towards the lower of the hills. Garcia pointed out that all the others headed in the opposite direction.

'Yeah, they presume it must have crashed into the higher hills. Let them go.' He turned to look at his reluctant companion. 'Come on, Garcia, when have I ever let you down? It's not far.'

Garcia paused to stare at him. 'How the hell can you know that, Almeida?'

'Lieutenant Anderson said it's our last day, and that the first team to find it….. He expected several of us to find it, I don't know, dammit, but it has to be close!'

Garcia shook his head. He followed Tony up the next hill. They surveyed the empty desert in silence. Garcia shook his head disappointed. 'I don't even see a dead crow, Almeida.'

Tony looked frustrated. 'It's got to be here. Think logically. It was heading north, it has to be here.' He rubbed sand out of his face. 'God I hate this place. Sand, flies, dust and this wind!' He sank down disgusted.

Garcia settled next to him. 'It's ok, Almeida, at least no-one's depending on us to save their life. Pilot probably died on impact or from swallowing too much sand in this bloody wind.'

'What makes you say it was windy?' Tony inquired, trying to quell his own disappointment at failing to find the plane, with sympathy for the dead pilot. He'd had it worse than they did.

'Why else would a plane just crash?'

'Wait a minute!' Tony leapt to his feet. 'It had mechanical faults. It flew in from the east –heading north, and got struck by a sand storm. That would place it behind those hills.' He grinned at Garcia. 'Coming?' He set off at a rapid pace.

Garcia patiently trudged after him. 'You know, Almeida, you shouldn't go into organizing hiking holidays. People would demand their money back.'

Tony laughed. He felt grateful to have someone to chat to during exercises. Someone to point out the humor in every situation. 'Oh really. And I was just drawing up the itinerary –the ultimate "get away from it all" hiking holiday. Find your own water, carry your own tent, and gun –and end the tour by getting to sit inside a genuine haunted plane!'

'You do make it sound appealing' Garcia replied. 'Oh God, look Almeida. It's right there.'

'Didn't I tell you?' Tony grinned. He lifted the radio they'd been issued with and reported their find. They settled down to await the arrival of the others.

Lieutenant Anderson regarded them thoughtfully. 'Record time, men. Well done!'

Sergeant Wills looked less impressed. Tony met his gaze and held it. He'd earned a day home with his family, and nobody could take that from him.

He groaned. The handcuffs were causing his fingers to swell slightly. He turned his head as far sideways as the bars would allow him, ignoring the protesting neck muscles, and willed a guard to walk through the steel door and uncuff him. Surely he had been punished long enough. His arms ached from the shoulders down forced to remain in such an unnatural position.

He kicked the bars. Clanging reverberated through the corridor, the empty cells bouncing back a hollow echo. Nobody responded to the noise. He kicked the bars with his full strength repeatedly. Echoes of clanging metal chased each other round the corridor till it seemed as though every cell were occupied by such desperate men as himself. His neck ached; his foot began to hurt too. He continued the kicking with his other foot. The din grew. His rage increased. Damn, they knew his three hours were up. They had to uncuff him, didn't they?


	12. Chapter Twelve

'You were right, Almeida,' Halliday told him as they wandered along the beach. 'A warm weather country with miles of beach.'

Tony grinned, remembering Lieutenant Anderson's question last week, asking what they knew about Somalia. 'Yeah, I was right' he replied. 'Just didn't know about the rest, constant civil war back to the year dot, the flies, the refugees, the sickness, the broken buildings, impassable roads, unusable phones etc.'

'Paradise,' Halliday told him. 'And with Sergeant Wills here, we can't fail to have a great time.'

'Well, at least he found someone else to sweep the sand out of the yard today,' Tony replied. 'So we should use this chance to look around.'

Halliday nodded. They had been sent to protect the small number of US personnel in the Military and Educational Training Program. They had been quartered in an old base just outside Mogadishu and ordered to keep a low profile and avoid annoying the local population. So far the local population hadn't seemed bothered by their presence, following them whenever they left their 'base' and attempting to sell everything they could possibly imagine. Lieutenant Anderson had handed them a map with their permitted trips off the base and especially warned them against using the beach.

'And hopefully not bump into Anderson,' Halliday grinned. 'Just imagine if he caught us here.'

'How could he?' Tony questioned. 'We're miles outside Mogadishu, and we're on the beach! He'd be ignoring his own rules should he be here.'

The trip to the beach had been Halliday's idea. He'd suggested it to Tony early that morning. Tony had agreed but expressed concern that someone might spot them and report them, so Halliday had suggested a trip to a more distant beach. A couple of dollars earned them a lift in an old truck that had bounced from pothole to pothole before depositing them further along the coast. Since they arrived they had begun walking backwards, chatting cheerfully.

'You afraid of Jaws, Almeida' Halliday asked, kicking some sand in the air. He glanced challengingly at Tony.

Tony stared at him gravely. 'Wasn't he killed by that policeman?'

Halliday burst out laughing, and pointed into the ocean. 'I'd really miss your comments, Almeida, if you ever were to leave. Shall we take a dip?'

Tony put his hand into the water. 'It's warm enough. Ok, let's. We'll keep an eye out for Jaws. You know, just in case the policeman killed the wrong shark!' They rushed into the water, splashing each other. Without his sunglasses the bright reflection off the water burned his eyes. He dived into the surf and allowed himself to be swept back ashore. He decided this deployment was going to be fun. Halliday had found them a peaceful, distant beach which he hoped they'd visit regularly, and as far as he knew, the group of US civilians was in no immediate danger.

'What do you think of my beach, Almeida?' inquired his friend, joining him at the shore. 'Not bad, is it? You have permission to visit my private beach anytime!'

Tony nodded, then froze as distant movement caught his eye. 'What's that?' They dressed hurriedly, watching the truck bear down on them. 'Let's go.'

'Hold it right there,' ordered a voice with an unmistakable American accent. They froze, seeing a US Captain stepping out of the military vehicle. 'Well what have we here? Two marines. Slightly lost, I hope.' He walked slowly round them, while a group of Somali soldiers laughed. 'Otherwise they would have some explaining to do, being 15 miles out of bounds. Names' he demanded. They reluctantly gave their names, and Lieutenant Anderson's. They were ordered into the truck, for a lift back to the capital.

'You know, Halliday, you forgot to stick your 'private property, no trespassing' sign on your beach' Tony whispered to him. Halliday nodded gloomily. 'Of all the rotten luck, we had to run into one of our officers training the Somali troops,' Tony continued. 'Where do you suppose they'll take us? Surely not back to Anderson?'

They were taken straight back to their headquaters, with the captain ordering them out. Lieutenant Anderson came out personally to greet the captain. 'Lieutenant, I believe I found a couple of your men,' remarked the captain 'so I brought them back, save you the trouble of searching for them'. Anderson flushed, Tony noted in dismay.

Under the circumstances, Tony wasn't surprised at the lieutenant's annoyance with them. He gave them a long lecture about being marines, obeying their boundaries, following the orders. He reminded them he had specifically mentioned the beach as out of bounds as there were plenty of sharks, and the last thing he needed was a US casualty. Did they have anything to say for themselves before he dealt with them?

'Sir, Jaws lives near New York' Tony couldn't resist saying. 'And he was blown-up.' After all, he reflected, they were in about as big trouble as possible, a wise comment couldn't hurt them anymore.

Lieutenant Anderson turned away very suddenly and gazed out of the window. A moment later he turned back to face them. 'I'd send the pair of you to the cooler, if we had one here, but you're real lucky that we don't. I'll let Sergeant Wills find some jobs to keep you occupied for the rest of the month!'

Sergeant Wills yelled at them for a steady twenty minutes without repeating himself twice. Following that he set them to work. Halliday was ordered to sweep the red soil out of the yard, whilst Tony was given the job of washing their three army trucks. 'I want the dust washed out of the tires' grooves as well, Almeida,' Wills ordered. 'You can use a toothbrush! I see one speck of red dust; you'll spend the next day at attention in the sun. Now move it!'

It wasn't a bit fair, Tony reflected as he went to get the hose. He was always burdened with the heavier task. 'What the hell's the point of cleaning the tires' he grumbled to Halliday. 'The moment we drive anywhere, they'll go red again.'

The trucks were washed reasonably quickly, but the tires took him until evening. Each groove was caked with red dust which he coaxed out with the toothbrush, dipping it into a bucket to clean it. After a while his water would go red, and he was forced to get a fresh bucket.

'Almeida, you're not telling me this tire is clean, are you?' questioned Wills. 'Does it look new to you?'

Tony lost his temper. He was sick of the job, he was wet, his uniform was spattered with red drops and his fingers were sore. He flung the toothbrush out of the bucket with full force, causing red drops to shower Wills' leg. The sergeant looked at his trouser leg for a second, then raised the entire bucket and poured it over Tony. Next he cursed Tony for looking like a bandito rather than a marine, and ordered him to stand at attention in the middle of the yard. Tony was unable to wipe the red drops off his face; he merely closed his eyes to keep the dirt out of them. He contented himself by thinking of several ways he would kill Wills once he left the army. He was kept outside till 2.00 am.

The next day was one he was unable to forget. They were woken early and ordered to prepare for their first day of action. Rebel forces threatened the port town of Berbera, and they were ordered to guard the port at all costs. They flew by helicopter to the north of the country and landed at the port. Wills ordered them to their positions. Tony was placed on a crumbling roof and told to hold his fire until given the order to shoot. He found himself praying no such order would be given. One American ship lay at anchor, interrupted in its role of unloading food aid. Behind it he saw an Italian ship also half unloaded. Tony presumed the crew was aboard, just as nervous as he was. An hour passed while the mob grew outside the port.

'Almeida, that's the ring leader' Wills told him, crawling along the roof. 'When they come in, a port official will order them out. If they advance any further, I want you to take that man out.'

'Sir, yes sir' he replied, sweating on the roof. The sergeant moved away to give orders to the rest of the men. Tony watched the mob shaking the port's gates. One man brandishing an AK47 took up a chant, quickly followed by the entire mob. The gate was shaken harder, harder, until it sprang open, admitting hundreds of howling men. The port official appeared and ordered them to halt.

Tony lay flat on his stomach and watched the scene unfolding below him. The ring leader paused and yelled something at the official, and all hell broke loose. The official fled into the shelter of one of the port buildings, the ring leader started after him. Hundreds of howling men followed blindly. The port shook under the stampede.

Tony aimed carefully at the ringleader. Eyes narrowed, he sighted the man's head. He undid the safety and put his finger on the trigger. Every second brought the man closer to the line Wills had pointed out to him, the line where he would be killed. He seemed to sense something for he turned and stared at the roof Tony lay on. Their eyes seemed to meet for a moment before he took another step forward. His feet approached the line. Tony's finger tightened on the trigger. The man turned to one of his companions and said something, his eyes sparkled. Tony's stomach knotted, his finger froze. The ringleader took a step past his line, and a second. Someone else's bullet blew his brains out, spattering them over the quay. The yelling mob retreated.

'Almeida, you're relieved,' he heard Wills tell him. 'Get up.' Deeply ashamed, Tony followed the sergeant into the abandoned port building. 'What the hell is the matter with you?' Wills demanded. 'Why didn't you shoot him?'

'Sir, he was too far' Tony muttered.

'Bullshit, Almeida, he was directly in front of you. A blind man could have hit him. You disobeyed a direct order. You're under arrest.' Venom spewed from Wills, and Tony bowed his head. Wills opened a door into a store room, long since ransacked. 'Get in there'. Tony stumbled into the room and sank down in the dirt. The door was banged shut after him.

He sat with his head buried in his hands, cursing his lack of action. Few sounds floated in from outside, all appeared peaceful. Only he had screwed up, totally failed. Soon afterwards the door was opened. 'Almeida, get out' Lieutenant Anderson called. Tony got up slowly and stood in front of him, staring at the floor.

Anderson shook his head slowly. 'I saw him look at you. Never a good idea, to look the target in the eye. They are targets only, Almeida, not people. Remember that, or you'll never be a marine. Now I'll give you another chance.'

Tony joined the others in the group. He noted their unease. 'Alright, listen up. I've formed two groups. The first will evacuate by helicopter and check the position of the arriving government troops, the second will remain here until the remainder of the government forces arrive. Should be another fifteen minutes. Our helicopter will return in another twenty. The mob seems to have settled for the present, however should they return you are to use all available force to repel them. Let's move!'

Sergeant Wills positioned them round the port, glaring at Tony. He pointed him behind a few bins. 'Take cover. Anyone enters, shoot him, or he'll shoot you. Entirely up to you.' He left and Tony pressed his hand over his eyes. Never before had he felt so ashamed. He was even relieved the bins concealed him from the others.

Thundering footsteps sounded again. Tony glanced between the bins, shocked to see the mob entering the port again. Where were the government soldiers, he wandered? A man in the front row lowered his rifle and aimed it behind a box, hitting Sergeant Wills. Tony watched him lying in full view of the mob, watched them lower their weapons. Wills turned to face them, scorn on his face. Tony found himself rising, shooting bullets into everyone in the front row and running across the quay. He grabbed Wills by the leg and dragged him behind the bins, firing another round at the returning mob. Dozens of bullets hit the bins they crouched behind, not daring to move. The mob approached.

'Move, Almeida, leave me behind,' ordered Wills. 'Go now'.

Tony watched blood trickling from Wills stomach. 'No sir,' he answered, surprising himself with the ease with which he refused another direct order. 'I'll hold them back.' He fired another round hitting several of them in their legs. Another volley of shots rocked their position.

'Almeida, I'm dead already. Go! The situation is hopeless; the government troops should have been here by now. Radio the helicopter to pick you up outside the port, make sure those ships are out to sea, go now!'

Tony stared at him, remembering the hundreds of times he had been insulted for little reason, the extra harsh punishments meted out to him. How often had he dreamed of killing the man? Just yesterday, for instance. Yet even as he remembered his eyes searched for a possible means of escape.

'Almeida, are you deaf? Move now!' yelled Wills, though his voice had lost a little of its menace. Tony rose, grabbed him, and pulled him towards the waterfront. He pushed Wills in and jumped after him, swimming as fast as he could under the quay. Reaching the end he hoisted himself up a post and leaned down to drag Wills to safety. Wills looked at him strangely. 'Almeida, find the radio. Get everyone out of here now.'

Tony left him in the shade of a broken container and hurried to find the radio. 'Hey Peters, Wills wants to talk to the chopper. Take the radio to him, he's just over there.'

Peters shook his head in disgust. 'It's smashed, Almeida. It's useless.' He picked it up and they made their way back to the sergeant. He examined it critically. 'How the hell could you have allowed a bullet to hit our radio?' he demanded.

'Sir, let me take a look at it' Tony volunteered. Wills handed him the radio with a snort of disgust. He sent Peters to order the others to move out. Tony unscrewed the back of the case with his knife and surveyed the damage. Wills looked annoyed and in pain, ordering Tony to throw it into the sea and get moving. 'Sir, let me try and patch it together' he said. He worked in silence, whilst the marines withdrew from the port, carrying Wills with them. Eventually he rose and followed at a run, not wishing to be cut off by the mob.

They sheltered inside another abandoned building, watching silently for any hostile approach. 'Sir, you can try calling the chopper now' Tony told the sergeant, handing him the radio. 'Don't know what kind of reception you'll get, but they should hear you ok.'

Wills gave him another unfathomable look, before calling the chopper and ordering immediate evacuation from their position. He listened to his own instructions angrily.

'Ok, listen. The government troops are now arriving. We're to provide them support in retaking the port. I don't need to remind you this is a vital port which must not be left in rebel hands. As soon as the port is secured we're going home.'

Halliday joined Tony as they returned to the port with the government troops. 'Almeida, you were great.'

A few of the rebels began firing on the troops. The troops fired back. Slowly they began to retake the port. Almost done, Tony thought relieved. The last rebel had been pushed behind the gate when Halliday got hit. Tony rushed to him while the other marines provided covering fire and dragged him to safety. He carried Halliday all the way to the end of the port, where the chopper had now landed. Wills was already inside it, and they climbed in. He laid Halliday down gently and removed his clothes.

Dark blood gushed from his abdomen, a purple color Tony had never seen before. He applied pressure to the wound, willing the chopper to fly faster. Holliday's face paled and his breathing became shallow. Tony spoke to him, forcing answers from him, attempting to keep him conscious. He didn't notice any of the view on that long ride back. Medics removed Halliday from his arms, and helped Wills out too. Tony was stopped at the door by a nurse. The doctors couldn't be disturbed now, they were busy. He waited outside the door, head in hands, praying for his friend.

An hour passed before a nurse informed him Halliday died minutes after arrival.

Tony couldn't remember how he arrived at the beach; he just found himself there. Dark waves reflected the full moon hundreds of times over, lighting crazy paths in the ocean. Moon and moonbeam merged as the tears fell from his eyes.

As dawn lit the sky Anderson joined him. Tony stared at him silently, beyond caring what rules he had broken by spending the night on the beach. 'Almeida, you were great yesterday. You showed exceptional courage under fire in rescuing injured Marines, you repaired a vital piece of equipment, and you showed sound leadership abilities. Your talents are wasted here. I've handed in an application for you to an officer training course. You'll make a great lieutenant.' He ignored Tony's horrified expression and laid a hand on his shoulder.

'Sir, I don't think…' Tony began, but Anderson cut him off.

'It's already been sent, Almeida.' He left Tony alone to gaze at the water.

The throbbing in his wrists increased as the time passed. His three hours were up long ago, and still no one came. What could Michelle be doing now, he wandered? Was she at home? Deep down he knew where she was. He could sense her distress. She would be lying on their bed, crying into his pillow, the way she had the few times she'd been really upset. 'Only this was different,' he thought sadly. 'This time I'm the reason she's upset, and I'm not there to hold her.' Unable to move his arms, Tony had to contend himself with blinking away his tears.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Another drop of rain hit the window and began its slow course downwards. Tony watched it, betting it would join the previous drop before it reached the bottom of the glass. His wandering was interrupted by a new raindrop falling between the two he had been observing. All three merged into one enormous drop and rushed down the glass, being engulfed by several streams until…

'Almeida, stand up!' He pushed his chair back and stood at attention, aware of the military historian's displeasure. 'Doubtless the rain appears more exciting than our problems during the Korean conflict. Don't let me prevent you from enjoying the show! Go stand at the window and watch it.'

'Sir, I'm sorry,' he apologized, but the old historian was not to be placated.

'Go now, Almeida. Face the window.' Tony moved to stand directly in front of the glass, feeling his face burn. He glanced at his watch. 10.52 –he had another 38 minutes left. He listened to the lecture as he was certain he would be questioned about it later. Eventually the class was dismissed and the old professor summoned him. 'Now, Almeida, you seem to be familiar with the Korean War, so I don't suppose you'd mind writing a brief essay about how we could have achieved our objectives more successfully. I want 5000 words by the next class, which is, let me see, in two days. Otherwise you will end up with a demerit point, and it's never a good idea to start accumulating them in the first week. Off you go, you'll be late for your next class!'

Tony left in a daze, wandering how he could possibly achieve something of that length in the specified amount of time. He was forced to hurry to his next class, which was located two floors below. It had already begun, but he was able to slip in unobserved.

That evening he sat at a computer terminal and begun his detailed analysis of the Korean conflict. He spread open all four books he had found in the library and glanced through them taking notes. Hours later he heard taps being sounded just as he was arranging his notes into a coherent order. If he stopped now he would never have the work ready. He remained at his desk, typing in the faint light of the monitor. Sitting in silent darkness wasn't helping him stay awake, he thought, with a sigh. Just before dawn he had nearly 3000 words written, so he saved it and exited the computer room. He almost bumped into a sentry on night duty patrolling the corridors. They glanced at each other startled before the sentry remembered his position and insisted on his name. Tony was ordered to accompany him to the duty room where his name was entered in a computer. He was then ordered to return to his quarters.

Opening his eyes the following morning required a strenuous effort. He showered, dressed and headed down to breakfast with the others. During self-defense class a messenger appeared. Colonel Harrison wanted to see Almeida immediately. Tony followed him downstairs to an impressive office. He groaned inwardly, sure he would be grilled about the previous night. Really, he was getting too old for this, he thought. Why couldn't Anderson have just left him where he was, shooting at whatever target was pointed out to him?

Colonel Harrison ordered him in. Tony stood at attention and received the first of several demerits. The first was for being discovered outside his quarters at that hour, the second for using a computer after lights out, and the third for protesting the first two. 'I am aware of your military record, Almeida, of your recent combat experience, but I will not condone your poor attitude. Whilst you are here you will live by the rules. Dismissed.'

'Great start, Almeida,' he muttered to himself, returning to his self-defense class. Considering how mad he felt, he was heading to the right class, he reflected. He could beat up five people at once! Ten minutes later the instructor stood in front of him, a satisfied look on his face.

'Well done, Almeida. I haven't often seen such improvement in ten minutes. Keep it up!' Something told him he probably would.

That afternoon he worked on his essay again. It was hard to decide what to concentrate on, this long essay or the few short reports other lecturers had demanded for the following day. He decided to continue his essay as everything he'd glanced through was fresh in his mind. Naturally the short reports were missed the following morning. Neither officer was willing to grant him an extension until the evening. Both gave him a demerit each. By lunchtime Tony had had about as much as he could take of the military academy.

He needed a little fresh air, he decided. A walk on the beach would be just the thing. Fortunately it was Saturday, which meant he had two hours leave outside the academy. Remembering the season, he pulled on a second jumper under his coat and left with his classmates. Soon he left them and bought himself a sandwich which he ate on the way to the beach. It took him half an hour to get there.

An icy Atlantic wind met him. Tony pulled his coat tighter round himself. At least there had been one good thing about Somalia, the weather, he thought to himself. Strong waves hit the shore, churning up the sand. He stood and watched for a while, feeling a little of his bitterness leave him. Anderson had meant well, he realized. He had as many brains as anyone else in his group, he could lead men, and he would at least make certain they would not be used as cannon fodder in some third world conflict.

On impulse, he removed his coat, boots and socks and rolled up his trousers. He stepped into the wet sand, watching his footprints fade by the next wave. The water was icy, numbing his feet. A swim would have been possible had be brought a towel. The next wave tugged at his feet, almost dragging him with it. Tony returned to the beach and stripped down to his underwear. He paused for a second, gritted his teeth and plunged into the surf.

A strong undertow grabbed him, sucking him along the beach. He swam vigorously, enjoying the challenge of the ocean. Halliday's face swam before him. Tony shuddered, pushing the image away. To dispel it entirely he dived through an extra large wave, being tumbled and dragged along the seabed for nearly a minute before he fought his way to the surface. Slightly bruised, he gasped for air, deciding he'd swum long enough for that day. It took all his strength to return to the shore and climb out.

The undertow had dragged him miles along the beach, he realized. He would have to walk back to his clothes, and he should hurry if he didn't want to freeze in the wind. He set off at a steady jog. It took him nearly an hour to return to his clothes, rub himself dry with one jumper and pull the rest of his clothes on. Tony brushed as much sand out of his hair as he could and started back. Without needing to consult his watch he knew he was late. 'Oh, well,' he reasoned, 'another demerit more or less wouldn't make much difference.'

The sentry on duty logged in his arrival time and told him to report to Colonel Harrison immediately. Tony sighed, his hopes of cleaning himself up dashed. He knocked on the door and was told to enter. Colonel Harrison was so startled by his appearance he forgot to pretend to attend to his paperwork, and merely gaped for a few seconds. Eventually he found his voice.

'Where the devil have you been, Almeida? Swimming?' It was asked sarcastically, and he gaped again when Tony confirmed it.

'At the beach?' The colonel rose from his chair. 'In this season? Aren't you aware the beach is out of bounds?' Tony did in fact remember something about being handed a map with their permitted area on it which he had tossed into the bottom of his drawer. 'You just can't seem to settle down, Almeida. You've managed to annoy every one of your instructors, and you've shown blatant disregard for all our rules. What the hell should I do with you?'

'Send me back' Tony answered, sick of being regarded with such obvious distaste. He stared the colonel straight in the eye.

'Almeida, your returning to shoot every moving inhabitant in the country won't bring your friend back,' replied the Colonel, in a quieter tone. 'Channel your frustration into your studies and you'll make a hell of an officer. Now I won't expel you, as I could. You have 50 demerits to work off, so you won't have much time for anything else. I suggest you start working them off immediately if you want to graduate. All further leave is cancelled.' He dismissed Tony.

Tony knew he had no alternative but to graduate. His application to the academy was being taken seriously, and Harrison didn't seem concerned that he hadn't in fact filled it out himself. He still had a couple of years of military service to perform. He was stuck here for the moment.

The following day he began working off his demerits. A rifle was handed to him and he was sent to stand guard just outside the main entrance to the academy. At first he thought little of the punishment, but later as he grew cold and wet in the ceaseless rain he felt more respect for whoever devised the idea.

In certain respects the military academy reminded him of school. Almost all his fellow students were bound together by a common thread from which he was again excluded –they were the sons of military officers. They naturally formed a solid cliché which he didn't attempt to penetrate. Keeping his grades high took up a lot of his time and almost every spare moment was spent working off demerits. He had been there almost two months when he first spoke to Macintyre.

Everyone was present that day in class, and teamed-up with their usual partner, leaving Tony alone for an exercise. He glanced at them and settled at a table by himself, opening out his notes. Within moments he was approached by the lecturer, who inquired as to what part of the sentence 'groups of two' he failed to comprehend. He was ordered to join a group immediately. Sighing he gathered his papers and searched the room for any indication a group wanted him. He found none.

Tony groaned inwardly. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? 'Sir, I'm ok on my own,' he told the lecturer, aware of his classmates' eyes.

'Almeida, I won't tell you again. This lesson involves correct reporting of battle situations; it needs at least two people. Now join a group.'

'Almeida can join us,' he heard someone he'd heard referred to as Macintyre say. His partner looked less certain.

Tony chewed his lip. 'I work alone.'

'Get out, Almeida' ordered the lecturer. Tony's face burned as he almost ran from the room. A couple of minutes later the lecturer joined him in the corridor and put him on report for refusal to follow instructions. His behavior was compared to that of a first grade school child's and he was ordered to return, apologize to Macintyre and join his group. Tony desperately wished himself back in Somalia as he entered the room.

That afternoon he discovered Macintyre struggling over a computer mapping assignment. After listening to his sighs over half an hour Tony moved over to his workstation. He studied the screen in silence, unsure of his welcome. Macintyre glanced at him.

Tony looked at the monitor. 'Need a hand?' he asked, nonchalantly.

Macintyre stared at him. 'From you, Almeida? You work alone!'

'Look, I said sorry. I just didn't want to interrupt anyone,' Tony said. 'Isn't this yesterday's assignment?'

'It is, and I've got it on paper, but it just won't go on the comp,' grumbled Macintyre. 'I've got till three to hand it in.'

Tony shook his head. 'You'll never get it done by then. I'll do it!' He settled at the vacant chair and began working rapidly. Macintyre stood beside him watching in awe. Still ashamed of his previous rudeness, Tony offered to teach him the following afternoon.

* * *

So began his friendship with Stuart Macintyre, which lasted till the present day. Together they had found themselves in more trouble at the academy than Tony could ever have imagined. They served together as lieutenants after they graduated, and he had been invited to Mac's wedding and later the christening of his first child.

The urge to rub the side of his face was overwhelming. Tony's fingers moved involuntarily, causing agony in his wrists. His neck throbbed. His head burned and his throat was so dry he wasn't certain whether he could speak or merely rasp. He had given up listening for any sound coming from the corridor, convinced they would leave him cuffed for the rest of the day. Hearing approaching footsteps startled him.

The warden had returned, accompanied by all six guards. One opened his cell and two entered, followed by the warden, who stood a couple of feet away from Tony, out of reach of a possible kick. He surveyed the prisoner in silence for a full minute.

Tony knew better than to ask for his cuffs to be removed. He curbed his impatience and waited in silence, forcing a humble look onto his face. Presumably he would be threatened again before being released.

'Prisoner Almeida, your three hours in handcuffs are now up. I am going to permit you the unrestricted use of your cell. Any further disobedience will result in your immediate immobilization for a further three hours. Have I made myself clear?'

'Yes Sir,' Tony replied, fixing his gaze on the ground.

The warden made a sign and one of the guards left in the corridor uncuffed him. An involuntary moan left Tony as one of his wrists was grabbed and pushed back through the bars. He was able to control himself as the second was forced through straight afterwards.

'Your wrists look swollen, Prisoner Almeida. Don't expect a trip to medical, it won't happen!' the warden informed him. 'You look pretty bad. I suggest you get to sleep after dinner, we wouldn't want your wife thinking we weren't treating you well, would we now?'

He backed out of the cell after he finished his last sentence, followed by the guards. Tony forced himself to wait until they had all exited the corridor before stumbling over to the sink. Turning the tap caused waves of pain to shoot from the tips of his fingers up to his elbows. A string of Spanish oaths distracted him slightly as he fought for water. When it came he placed his hands under the tap and numbed them in the cold before kneeling down and attempting to swallow a little. He made it over to his bed before passing out.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Stuart Macintyre feared no one and lived by his own rules. Apart from an inability to work on a computer, he breezed through his studies. There was only one serious problem to being friendly with Mac, Tony reflected. He had to have an accomplice in all his exploits. By the third month of the academy, that accomplice was Tony.

'Boy am I sick of camping,' Mac told him the third evening of a survival course. 'And that's nothing compared to how sick I am of eating this shit. What do you say we go get a burgher or something?'

Tony laid down the letter he had been writing to his parents by torchlight and stared at his friend in amazement. 'Not that I don't agree about the food, Mac, but just how do you propose we find a MacDonald's in the middle of nowhere?'

'Have a little faith, Almeida,' Mac chided him. 'This is America! There'll be one in the nearest town. Coming?'

'That's at least fifty miles away, Mac! I'm NOT walking all that way. Forget it. Not after our 'short' hike this afternoon.'

'Do I look the sort who'd consider walking?' Mac asked, indignantly. 'When I heard about this survival joke, I had my car driven a few miles up the road from the campsite in case we needed it.' Tony gazed at him in awe. 'Paid one of the locals $100 to drive it here, and pick it up later. Now shall we go?'

'Sure,' Tony agreed. He hadn't received any points yet for this training. So far he had succeeded in locating over ripe berries, which he had eaten in desperation, and had gotten stung by a bee. All the mushrooms he had collected had turned out to be poisonous, earning him a scolding by their instructor. He had been given only a small portion of cereal for dinner, and had been warned that unless he paid closer attention the following day and located some of the 'edible' plants around, he would receive nothing. His letter writing had only reminded him of the dinners he used to eat at home, making him hungrier than he had been before. He got up to follow Mac out of the tent.

'Now we must evade whoever's on sentry duty' Mac whispered. 'And walk up that path. We should see the car fairly soon.'

They crawled silently past the tents and into the nearby bushes before rising and creeping silently onward. All this training had proved useful after all, thought Tony, congratulating himself for his silent 'escape'. After a while they felt bold enough to talk softly to each other as they hurried along the path.

'Here we are,' Mac told him gladly. 'Get in'. He unlocked his car and Tony climbed into the passenger seat. Mac started it off and they drove into the nearby town without mishap. 'And here we are' Mac said again as they drew up to a large yellow M sign. 'What are you having, Almeida? I'll pay you back for all the help with computer mapping.'

'I'll have one of everything' Tony answered with a grin. Mac laughed and ordered enough food for a dozen men, which they ate peacefully in his car, not wishing to draw attention to themselves.

'Now I feel better able to deal with the survival course' Tony joked. 'The camping part's ok, it's just the food! That bastard Sanders threatened to starve me tomorrow.'

'He probably figured you'd look more carefully if you were hungry,' laughed Mac. 'Tell you what, we're camping another week. It would be an idea to buy a little food to take back with us.' Tony nodded vigorously.

They drove round town a few minutes before Tony noticed a gas station that was open. 'Food' he said. He followed Mac inside. 'Now then, we need bread, cookies, jam, and lots of cans!'

'That's more like it,' Mac said, satisfied, as they loaded the food in the boot. 'You ready to return to the great outdoors, Almeida? Back to nature?'

'Yeah,' Tony agreed. 'Watch it, Mac, the local pig's hiding behind that bush, we don't need a ticket.' Mac slowed down immediately and they returned to camp. They wandered along the trail quietly, uncertain how close they were in the darkness. Tony walked ahead, straining his eyes to search for any light. He saw something in the distance and silently pointed it out to Mac, who nodded. 'Another mile or so' he whispered.

Sudden bright light aimed directly in his face caused his eyes to shut and his face to turn away. 'Halt, Almeida' called the sentry. Tony stopped, cursing the sentry for having recognized him in such darkness. 'Halt' he yelled again, but he failed to capture Mac. Tony heard him dart away into the cover of some bushes. The sentry flashed his torch round the darkness for a couple of minutes before giving up. 'Move, Almeida' he ordered.

Tony sighed. 'Look, Beaumont, give me a break. I didn't notice you creeping back last Wednesday. You can look the other way too.'

Beaumont shook his head. 'Sorry, Almeida, I flashed my torch at you. I'm sure Captain Sanders would've seen the light, and I won't go down for you. Let's go.'

Tony looked him in the eye in disgust for a moment before shaking his head. 'Next time I'll be sure to watch out for you.' He chewed his lip and set off in the direction of the captain's tent.

Captain Sanders was reading a book in his tent. He appeared annoyed at the interruption. 'Sir, I caught Almeida sneaking round a mile outside camp, and someone else got away.' The captain dismissed him and turned to Tony.

'Well, well, Almeida. Whatever were you doing out at night?'

'Sir, nothing in particular. I just went for a walk' Tony answered, unable to think of a single reason to be wandering round in such darkness.

'Right,' answered the captain. 'Hand it over' Tony silently withdrew a packet of chocolate wafers and handed it to the captain. 'Thought you'd stash a little food away, did you?' demanded the captain. 'Beats me when you had a chance to hide this. If only you used your imagination for recognizing edible plants you'd do brilliantly. Now I ask you again, who did you go with?'

'Sir, I went by myself,' Tony answered. The captain gave a snort. He warned Tony about the consequences of lying. 'I was alone' Tony repeated.

'Almeida, the sentry saw two of you. I'll ask you one final time who else was out. Answer me or face double punishment.'

Tony groaned silently. He studied the floor of the tent for a second. 'It was only me, sir,' he said finally.

'Well, I'll say one thing about you, Almeida, you're loyal! You have 50 demerits for being out of bounds, and another 50 for the person who was not with you. You better hope he turns himself in tomorrow. Dismissed!'

Tony returned to his tent in a daze. 'How could he possibly work off that many demerits?' he wandered. He still had 30 points left from the beach incident. There just wouldn't be that many free hours left. He half expected Mac to peep in to ask what had happened, but no one appeared. Eventually he gave up waiting and fell asleep.

Just before breakfast the captain addressed them all. He wanted to know who, apart from Almeida, had been out the previous night. They stared curiously at each other. Nobody stepped forward. Captain Sanders looked around slowly. 'One last chance to save Almeida. Do you really want him to work off 100 demerits?' A murmur rippled through the crowd. Tony studied a nearby tree in great detail, not wanting to look at Macintyre. 'Alright,' said the captain finally. 'Almeida will work off all 100 demerits. Should he decide to name his accomplice, that person will be expelled. Now let's do some survival training.'

Tony finished his glass of juice and looked around for Mac, his usual partner in the survival course, but he was nowhere to be seen. He sighed and returned to the tent to collect his hat. 'Almeida, I'll go with you today,' said Edwards, to his surprise. They had barely exchanged more than a handful of sentences since the beginning of term. 'We'll find lots of stuff, my dad used to take us camping all the time.' They walked in silence for a while, Tony watching Edwards fill the backpack with various green weeds. 'A couple of us spoke to the captain,' he said finally. 'We offered to take 10 points each, leave you with just your own 50. He wouldn't go for it.'

Tony stared at him in utter amazement. 'Why would you guys care?' he asked.

'A marine doesn't leave another in trouble' replied Edwards seriously. 'I'll talk to the Colonel when we return to the academy.'

Tony remained silent, carrying his share of their find. 'I'm sorry about your friend, Almeida, the one who died in Somalia,' Edwards continued.

Tony paused, regarding him skeptically. 'Don't be. He wouldn't ever have been an officer. He was just a guy who loved surfing, chasing the biggest waves... You wouldn't even have said "hi" to him.' He turned abruptly and left Edwards with the backpacks. 'Damn it, why couldn't they just leave him to forget?' he thought furiously as he kicked a few loose stones.

Edwards sat waiting near the backpacks when he returned twenty minutes later. He grabbed his backpack and placed it on his shoulders. They walked back to camp. 'It might surprise you, Almeida, but I used to surf a lot, and I said hi to all the other guys out there,' Edwards remarked as they entered the camp, before turning and leaving him alone.

Tony threw his things forcefully into his tent and went in search of Mac. He found him sorting through a bunch of mushrooms. 'Hi, Mac. I didn't exactly hear you stepping forward to help me out this morning.'

Macintyre looked awkward. 'Will you forgive me, Almeida? I've already got 15 demerits, and I'm hopeless with my mapping, I couldn't survive another 50 points. You're better than me, you can.'

'Yeah, well, I'm going to have to, now.' Tony stared at him for a long while, before turning. 'Oh, don't worry, Mac. Your daddy will be real proud of you. I won't tell. You'll get to be a general just like him.'

To his amazement Edwards proved true to his word, and spoke to the colonel once they returned to the academy. Colonel Harrison summoned Tony and scolded him, asking how he proposed to find the time to work off all his demerits.

Tony chewed his lip thoughtfully. 'I'll find the time, Sir.'

'For your sake, I hope you do. I've had five students offer to take some of your points, but whilst I commend their intentions, I can't allow it. You only have to give me Macintyre's name and you'll probably graduate.' Tony remained silent.

The next few months passed rapidly, and he barely remembered anything other than attending classes and standing guard duty at the gate. Graduation time crept closer, and whilst his demerits went down, he still had far too many. During his next military history class he worked out how many free hours he had remaining, and how many demerits, and shook his head. Working them off would be impossible. He had to get rid of 15 demerits at the least. He ran through the figures again, to double check. The results hadn't changed. 'What in the world should he do', he wandered.

That afternoon, whilst they worked silently at their computers, Tony resolved to graduate at any cost, the resulting action causing him shame up to the present day. After taking a careful look around to make certain everyone was fully occupied, he pulled up the academy's web site and began the task of hacking in. An hour later he had successfully reduced his demerits by 15 points and covered his tracks. He brought up his latest assignment, but found himself totally unable to concentrate on it.

A week later he found himself summoned back to Colonel Harrison's office. Tony entered the office wandering what he had done to attract the wrath of the colonel this time.

'Almeida, I was looking through everyone's records prior to graduation,' began the Colonel. You appear to be our top student! However, I was concerned at your number of demerits and I checked just how many you had left, even considering excusing you a few. What do you suppose I found?' The question appeared to be rhetorical, Tony remained silent. 'Almeida, I'm an old man, not up with the latest technology. Now whilst everyone's records are entered into our system, I prefer to keep things on paper as well, just so I can check things for myself. There appears to be a discrepancy between your demerits. How do you account for that?'

Tony chewed his lip so hard he tasted blood. They had wasted his time here at the academy, trained him for something he never wanted to do in the first place. When he finally started caring they placed an impossible number of demerits on him, and he had nearly worked all of them off. Now he would be humiliated one final time; denied becoming a lieutenant. He met the colonel's eyes.

'Almeida, you should be expelled. Marines are honest, they take orders. They NEVER resort to cheating for personal gain.'

'These papers tell you all that?' Tony heard himself ask, bitterly. 'Maybe you should leave your office a couple of times, take a look round.' Without waiting to be dismissed he left the office, slamming the door so hard it shook.

Edwards arrived a couple of minutes later, as he threw his things into his backpack. 'Colonel wants to see you right away, Almeida.'

'Yeah, well, I don't want to see him,' Tony replied, tossing a few photos into the bag's pocket.

Edwards grinned. 'Look, don't be a fool. He's a colonel; he has the right to yell at whoever he wants to. We all saw you standing outside every night in the rain, don't waste all that.' He lifted Tony's bag from the bed and replaced it in the cupboard. 'Go on.'

Tony sighed heavily as he retraced his steps. Colonel Harrison was livid. Never in his entire career had he had a door slammed on him. He pointed out Tony's inappropriate behavior several times before returning to the question of his cheating. He would be lenient this time; Tony had been under exceptional pressure. If he still wished to graduate he would work off the remaining demerits and an additional 100 for the cheating during the summer vacation, and graduate with his few classmates who had failed a subject and were re-taking their exams in the autumn.

Tony studied the carpet in silence, considering his reply. Next week he would have been flying back to visit his family. He hadn't seen any of them for over a year. What would they think if he failed to come? Then again, what would they think if he failed to graduate? He raised his eyes to meet the colonel's. 'I'll graduate in the autumn, sir.'

* * *

He graduated in the autumn, together with Macintyre, who had managed to pass computer mapping with his help. Mac had apologized profusely for his behavior during the survival course, and had humbly begged his pardon. Never one to hold a grudge, Tony eventually forgave him. It was easier than sitting by himself during mealtimes.

He lay on his bed, immobile, staring at the grey ceiling. Bright light lit the cell; he hadn't been out too long then. It was still 'daytime'. If he focused on a single spot hard enough he could reconstruct Michelle's face. Slowly he 'drew' her outline, filling in her features from top to bottom, adding the sparkle to her eyes he still remembered from his first meeting with her. He held the image in his mind, picturing her so clearly he found himself smiling at her.

'It's getting late, sweetheart' he whispered into the silence. 'You should get some dinner.'


	15. Chapter Fifteen

'I accepted the challenge, so don't disappoint me!' General Skipworth gazed at all the officers present in the conference room. 'Now these Rangers have seen combat recently, they're hardened, and they'll probably shock you with some of their tactics. But we all know that the Marines are the elite of the fighting forces. Tomorrow you men shall prove that once and for all! Win at any cost. Dismissed.'

'Almeida and Macintyre, into my office,' their Captain ordered. They followed him down the hall into a small office. 'Sit!' They found two wooden chairs and settled down. The whole of the Marine's preparation for tomorrow would be laid on them, Tony expected. Still, it would be an interesting change. He had been at his new base for a month now, and had settled into the routine, glad that Macintyre had been assigned together with him. Mac had taken to command naturally, whilst Tony had struggled with shyness on first meeting his own men.

'Don't worry about them, Almeida' Mac had advised. 'Let them worry about you. You're their immediate boss. You want to go hiking all night, they have to accompany you. You decide to prepare them for an amphibious landing during a winter storm, they go swimming! Relax!'

Still, he had felt butterflies when he first entered their barracks, being greeted by a young sergeant, who had all the men salute together. He had given a short speech and had left, calling the sergeant into his office. Golden haired and grey eyed, Koskinen seemed resilient and cheerful. Tony had to remind himself that this was not a hostile drill sergeant but a capable private who had earned this rank. After a few minutes of chatting, Koskinen informed him everyone already knew him as a hero, and as a fixer of broken equipment. Tony was reminded yet again of army gossip. 'I just did what I was trained for,' he told the sergeant, rubbing the side of his face awkwardly. 'And as for repairing broken stuff, it all depends how broken it is.' Koskinen had nodded. 'We're all real pleased to have you, sir.'

'Almeida, please try and listen, we really must get this right first time,' Captain Grey told him sternly. Tony looked apologetic and sat straighter in his chair. 'Now for reasons not given us lowly officers to comprehend, General Skipworth accepted a challenge from the Ranger General, whose men are passing through, to war games. They will settle into the old fort and defend it, whilst we will use everything in our power to capture it. The games will start exactly at 06.00 hours, and will continue till 18.00. If by that time the Rangers are still in possession of the fort, we have lost. Now I don't want to tell you how that would make General Skipworth feel.' He looked significantly at the two second lieutenants. 'So we MUST win. Use whatever it takes. I'll be in command. Tonight we will set up our tents just before the ring road that leads to the fort. We will split into two groups. Macintyre will attempt an assault on the fort while you, Almeida, will secure our position, just in case the Rangers have any smart ideas. Get your men ready. Dismissed.'

They saluted and left. Tony groaned aloud as soon as they were out of earshot. 'Of all the rotten luck in the world. Why do I get stuck babysitting a few tents while you get the action? How fair is that?'

'Come on, Almeida, they might try to break out, you know, especially when my men start their attack! You get to capture them.'

Tony set off to find Koskinen to give him instructions about the exercise. Koskinen nodded cheerfully enough, even after being informed of their secondary role of defending the supplies. 'Don't worry, sir. They'll change us round by lunch time. Always goes that way. We'll have a nice easy morning, and then we'll get to capture the fort after Lieutenant Macintyre's men have weakened it.'

Tony gazed at him in amusement. 'You're right. Well, I better go scout round once more.'

'The fort is to remain standing, I take it?' Koskinen inquired. Tony found himself grinning back. He nodded.

He drove up to the old fort, parked and walked round it, accessing any possible entry points. He could find none, with the exception of the door, or the roof, both of which were sure to be heavily defended. 'They sure build them well; in those days' Tony mused. He paused and gazed critically at the fort. It was set on top of a hill, overlooking their positions. Their every move would be monitored. He frowned. He had only an hour or so left to discover this fort's weakness before the arrival of the Rangers.

He decided he had to examine the fort from inside as he could learn little more from his position. He walked up to it and pushed the door open. The stone building was dark and cold. Tony wandered through a small courtyard and pushed open a second door. Inside he was pleasantly surprised. The place had been refurbished. A security system, now on stand-by, had been installed, and he discovered an entire room set up with modern communications equipment. He was about to examine these in greater detail when footsteps sounded down the hall. He crept silently towards the door, feeling a little guilty for having 'invaded'. He would have to slip out undetected.

'Hold it right there' a voice ordered and he heard the bolt of a gun drawn back. 'Hands above your head. Turn round slowly.'

He did as he was told, embarrassed. 'Captain Bauer, sir, we have a spy. A Marine! What should we do?'

Tony found himself being examined from head to toe by the Ranger captain. 'Remove his weapon, of course! Only he hasn't got one. Lieutenant eh?...'

'Almeida' Tony supplied softly.

'Lieutenant Almeida, it is highly inadvisable to go spying on enemy positions unarmed!' Captain Bauer shook his head. He turned to his men who still pointed their weapons at Tony. 'Let him go. He can enjoy his tour of our fort today, as he won't see it from the inside again!'

Red with shame, Tony hurried from the scene. He spent an hour by himself after arriving back at the base before he was able to go and find a computer terminal. He called up every detail about the fort, frowning.

Macintyre found him an hour later, copying diagrams. 'What's up, Almeida? Figured a way inside the impregnable fortress?'

'Mac, the only way to get inside is through the door. They have state of the art electronic surveillance all around the perimeter. They'll come out and massacre us, and we'll be stuck.'

Mac sighed heavily. 'Trust us to pull the impossible detail. Better get some sleep.' Tony nodded and folded the printouts in his pocket. He spent a couple of hours examining them by torch light in his tent. Eventually he gave up and replaced them in his pocket; next to the CD he had downloaded.

He awoke slightly cold and went to their field kitchen to get himself a hot coffee. Quite a few of his own men were already sipping hot beverages. They all saluted him as he settled down. 'At ease,' he told them. 'Not real warm last night.' They all grumbled about the cold. The tent flap was pulled open. Koskinen appeared. 'You guys are up early,' he remarked. 'Don't tell me you were cold. Sorry sir,' he added as he spotted Tony.

'No need,' Tony told him. 'Yes, we were all frozen. You're not?'

'No sir, it's not cold at all. There's not even any snow! When do we start?'

'Thirty minutes. But I don't expect to be doing much for a while.' He ate breakfast with them; putting faces to names, and watching them relax fractionally around him. Maybe this exercise was going to serve some useful purpose after all, if he would get better acquainted with his men.

The morning began as disastrously as he had anticipated. Macintyre's men were unable to get anywhere near the fort. The Rangers held their posts on the fort's roof, and anyone approaching was 'shot' and had to leave the game. Tony watched it all unfold through his army issue binoculars and shook his head. He set up his men to warn of any approach and readied his guns. He sighted one defender and pulled the trigger, sending blue paint on the man's face. He grinned in satisfaction. The Rangers kept their heads down afterwards.

After 'losing' half his men Macintyre withdrew. He held a conference with Tony and Captain Grey. Tony had hoped their captain would have some idea of what strategy to attempt next, but he hadn't. All he could suggest was storming the fort all together, which was a put aside as a last resort.

'Sir, the Rangers are exiting the fort. A scout team. They're heading towards our left flank' a sentry interrupted.

Captain Grey rose. 'Macintyre, deal with these Rangers. Almeida, I want your men to force an entry in now. These Rangers are too confident, maybe we can use that. Engage those outside the fort.'

'Sir, it's a suicide mission,' Tony protested.

'Just do it, Almeida. We have to capture that fort. We must get in. Even if it means sacrificing a few of our men. Move.'

Tony remained motionless, staring at him. 'Almeida, I just gave you a direct order. Go at once.' Tony gave him another hard glance and exited the tent.

He found Koskinen had already prepared the men for battle. He would have to ask that man about his incredible sixth sense later, he decided. 'A word, sergeant.' He told him quietly about the order to storm the fort and take as many as they could, and attempt an entry. Koskinen met his eyes.

'I know, Koskinen, it's hopeless,' he admitted. 'I want the men to crawl up that hill slowly. Nobody is to attempt anything heroic. Once the power is switched off you can engage the enemy and scale the walls. Capture them and secure them underground. There's a secure cellar in the north corner.' He handed the sergeant a copy of the map.

Koskinen gazed at the map and nodded approval. 'It sure helps having this, sir. But how will their security be switched off? Even if they lose power, they have a generator.'

'I'm going inside to deal with it now,' Tony replied. 'I'll pull a few plugs. Just get inside when you can.' His sergeant nodded.

Tony went in search of Macintyre's men and found a few 'dead' Ranger scouts. He asked two marines to undress one most similar to him in size and watched the man's outrage in amusement as he had his uniform stripped. He put it on rapidly. Macintyre appeared.

'How do I look, Mac?'

'You'll pass. Almeida, you won't come out, you know.'

'I know.' Tony grinned at his friend. 'Come on Mac, it's only a game. I won't win any points, but then the rest of you will. And the general won't be pissed at us. I'll see you later.' He set off pretending to sneak back up the hill. His heart beat rapidly with excitement. He hoped his face wouldn't be scrutinized too closely in the minor skirmishes raging outside the door.

It went better than he had hoped. Several Rangers were attempting to shoot at a few of his own men, and he was able to enter the door unchallenged. He headed for the communications room and fired at both Rangers seated inside. They glared at him as they fell to the floor. He closed the door and settled at a workstation.

'Come on, let me in,' he muttered to himself, typing steadily. Ten minutes later he had accessed their network. Tony opened the fort security file and attempted to deactivate it. The program insisted on another password. He frowned at it. Footsteps approaching the door made him move rapidly. He started the CD he had inserted as a final resort and attempted to pull a desk to block the door. 'Bad mistake, Almeida,' he muttered to himself. 'You should've secured the door first.'

Someone attempted to open the door. He heard an angry exclamation, and the names of the two Rangers were called. Tony remained silent, watching his CD. It really needed another couple of minutes to work. The person outside called again, then hurried off. Tony pulled his radio out and spoke to Koskinen, ordering him to proceed up the hill and be ready to scale the walls within five minutes. His CD had finished. He watched the monitor, breathless.

Several voices were now heard outside the door. It was being forced open, inch by inch. Tony looked around rapidly for a hiding place. There was no longer any direct need for him to remain at the monitor. The room was surprisingly bare, containing nothing beyond a few desks. He resigned himself to immediate capture. A thought flashed through his mind and he reached for his gun. He shot the first man who entered, receiving an evil look as he sat down beside the other two on the floor. The second pulled his weapon on Tony.

Tony raised his hands above his head. 'Step away from the computer.' He did as he was told, watching as his weapon was removed. He was pushed against a wall. The lights went dark very suddenly. The computers flashed.

'What the hell did you do?' demanded a voice in the dark he recognized as the Ranger captain's. Emergency power switched on from the generator, enabling him to see a circle of furious faces. He watched them in silence.

'Find someone who can figure out what the hell he done' the captain demanded. Just then the generator switched off, plunging them into darkness for the second time. 'Hold the prisoner' ordered the captain. Hands held him tightly as torches were switched on. Someone came to inform the captain that no-one remained who could deal with the computer as both their experts were 'dead'.

Captain Bauer gazed at Tony in a strange expression, half annoyance, and half admiration. 'Switch them back on' he said firmly.

Tony remained silent. He was poked with a gun. 'Right now, Lieutenant Almeida.' The fact that his name was remembered startled Tony.

He shook his head slowly. 'I can't, sir. The worm's destroyed everything by now. You'd have to load all your operating systems from scratch.'

Captain Bauer glanced at his 'dead' computer man, who nodded reluctantly. He sighed heavily. 'Secure the walls. The Marines will be climbing them by now. I want them shot as they arrive.' His lieutenant hurried out. He turned to follow.

'Sir, can I put a bullet through his head?' inquired one of the Rangers holding Tony. The captain turned and considered. 'No, he's a POW. I can't do that. Throw him in the hole.'

Tony was dragged outside the corridor and hauled down a flight of stairs. The torch cast flickering shadows on the walls of the underground passage. A door was unbolted and he was ordered inside. It was bolted behind him. He was left in complete darkness. He settled down to await the outcome of the conflict. Either his own men would join him, or he would be released by them.

Hours passed. Tony began to wander whether he had been forgotten. He whispered Sergeant Jenkins' words to himself: 'focus Almeida'. He relaxed a little. Someone would eventually have to miss him, if only for his unfinished report.

He heard the bolt being pulled back and stood eagerly, blinking as the direct light from a torch shone straight into his face. 'Move, Almeida' he was ordered and he left the dungeon only too willingly. Upstairs a committee waited for him. He couldn't keep from swallowing as he saw the number of officers inside the fort.

General Skipworth was there, with a thunderous expression. Captain Grey leant against a desk. Captain Bauer stood in the centre of the room, and the Ranger General sat in front of a dead computer. They all turned to face him. He saluted and stood at attention.

General Skipworth spoke. 'Lieutenant Almeida, have you any idea of the damage you caused?' Tony remained silent. 'That worm is still eating its way through the system. We have our best I.T. staff attempting to stop it. Give me one reason why I shouldn't place you under arrest.'

'General, if I may,' began Captain Bauer. The general waved a hand at him to continue. 'Holding this fort, we had an unfair advantage. There was no way we could be taken without air support. The marines were being massacred. The only unsure thing was whether they would attempt to storm us and get mowed down, or whether they would wait for us to go down to them. Either way, they had no chance. Almeida,' he waved his hand at Tony, 'evened those odds slightly. I'd congratulate him on achieving a draw.'

Deeply miserable, Tony glanced at him. That would be the last decent thing anyone would say about him before his court martial! 'Congratulations, Almeida, you've been a lieutenant for a total of one month and have managed to piss off the entire command structure of the base.'

General Skipworth seemed to relent. 'Almeida, you're confined to quarters. Move!' Tony moved as fast as he could, not bearing to remain in that room a moment longer.

He sat on his bed in his small room and ran through the events of the day. If only he had been given an extra few minutes in that computer room to crack the security password he would never have had to use the worm. How was he supposed to know it was that powerful? He could imagine his professor's outrage if he ever heard about this.

He was summoned to the general's office the following morning for a stern dressing down. He listened in silence, wandering what else was coming. His leave was cancelled. He would remain on the base until he was deployed. He was given a black mark beside his name. Finally he was warned never to attempt to access classified information again. Failure to adhere to that final command would have dire consequences. General Skipworth dismissed him.

* * *

Years later, Jack Bauer had offered him a position at CTU. Tony couldn't help grinning as he remembered their meeting so many years ago.

They had only been allowed a few weeks on the base before their deployment order had come through. All his men were given four days' leave, together with Macintyre. He spent a miserable day wandering around the base, before being handed a message. His mother had phoned, he was to return her call.

Tony remembered his mother had left everything to come and spend his last three days with him.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Astonishment filled him at the sight of his new captain. 'Lieutenant Anderson' he exclaimed, grinning, before he remembered where he was and saluted his new commanding officer.

'At ease, Almeida' Anderson answered, smiling back. 'You certainly kept us waiting long enough.' He laughed at Tony's bemused expression. 'I filled in a request for you as soon as you'd be assigned. I've kept track of you. And you _have_ made amusing reading.' He indicated a folder on his desk. 'Let me see, number one, the beach, you do seem to wind up there regardless of anyone's orders. Two, sneaking out of survival training to buy food – well…' Anderson laughed aloud. 'You should have been in my group; we sure would've appreciated you! Of course you did give yourself an unnecessarily hard time refusing to give up the other marine's name, but I wouldn't have expected anything less of you. And deleting a couple of demerits…' He smiled again, before noticing Tony no longer smiled back. 'You do put your computing talents to use again; let me see, just two weeks ago, awaiting permanent assignment; you sent a worm to disable the Ranger fort's entire security system.' Tony smiled and blushed.

'Why did you request me, sir?' he asked, feeling secretly delighted that he had impressed Anderson.

'Well, let me see, no private EVER told me Jaws was dead before! Anyway, welcome.' He handed Tony a map of the buildings they had been quartered in. 'Here are your quarters, and here's the officers' mess hall, so settle in. I'll see you tomorrow, when I inspect your men!' He showed Tony the location of the barracks his men were assigned to. Tony thanked him and headed out.

After unpacking his few belongings he made his way to the mess hall. Anderson was already there and beckoned him over. Tony carried his plate across, still feeling shy in his new uniform and in the presence of Anderson. 'Welcome to Kuwait, Almeida,' he said. 'I'm afraid you won't get much time to settle in, you'll be sent out day after tomorrow to relieve a group that's due for a break.'

Tony nodded. 'We're ready sir' he said. 'What exactly is our objective?'

Captain Anderson sighed. 'Iraqi troops have been pushed out of this area last week, but we're still rounding up stragglers. Also they've left a few 'gifts' behind. Your task will be to escort Thomson, our best expert disarming bombs, get him safely to some abandoned buildings, and wait for him to check it out. Anything at all moves on the horizon, Almeida, I want you to eliminate it!'

'Sir, with all due respect, we can do more than that,' Tony began.

'Almeida, clearing those buildings is vital, we can station troops there. You'll have your hands full with Thompson, don't worry. The guy's the best bomb expert we've got, but he's odd. He drinks excessively; he's also a known womanizer. You're to keep him camping in the desert, far away from any settlement. Don't let him get himself arrested; we can't afford to lose him!'

Tony sighed heavily. 'Yes, sir.'

'And Almeida, if you've got a moment, drop in to visit Sergeant Wills. He feels bad that he hasn't really been able to thank you for saving his life.'

Tony shrugged. 'It's okay. How is he?'

'He's mellowed a little since his operation. You'll be surprised.'

That was a task that could be put off till later, much later, Tony decided. He finished his meal and went in search of his men. He found them settling into a large empty room, unrolling sleeping bags. 'At ease' he said automatically, not wishing to interrupt them. 'Where's the sergeant?'

Koskinen returned a few minutes later, carrying a box of bottled water. Tony nodded in his direction, impressed. The guy appeared to consider everything. He followed Tony outside.

'We've got a real "dangerous" assignment' Tony said sarcastically. 'We're to baby-sit a man named Thompson who disarms bombs. Drive him round, keep him out of trouble.'

Koskinen nodded in silence. 'Don't worry, sir, there's enough of us to make certain he'll be ok!' Not for the first time, Tony was unsure whether he was joking or not.

He met Thompson the following day, in the mess hall, where he'd gone to ask Koskinen something. His men sat around a table listening to a drunk talking about demolishing old buildings. 'Yes guys, that's what I used to do. Down they would come, and then some new apartment would be built there later. Now here it's the opposite, the old must stay.' Tony listened, unimpressed with the explosives expert.

'That our guy?' he inquired of Koskinen.

'Yes sir. He kind of just bumped into us. Give him time today; we can get him ready this evening.'

Tony nodded, groaning. This was proving to be the most boring assignment of the entire war, he thought gloomily. He spent the rest of the day wandering around, finding a different postcard for every member of his family and writing something on each of them.

Next morning he ate a cold breakfast before grabbing his backpack and joining his men at their truck. He watched their things being loaded. 'Sir, we got a slight problem,' Koskinen told him, appearing behind a large box. 'We can't locate Thompson.'

'What' Tony exclaimed. He checked Thompson's quarters, then headed down to the mess hall. Thompson was there, finishing a bottle of brandy. 'Hey,' Tony said, annoyed. 'We're all waiting for you. What do you think you're doing, holding this mission up?'

'Having a drink,' replied Thompson, lazily. 'It's not like you're going anywhere without me'. Tony clenched his fists, resisting the urge to grab the man by his collar and pull him up.

'Let's go,' he ordered, as mildly as he could manage. 'What's that?' he cried, surprised to see Thompson lift a large cardboard box. It didn't look anything like regulation army gear.

'Something to drink' Thompson told him.

'You must be out of your mind!' Tony exclaimed. 'That stays here. Let's go.'

They drove outside the city, along a highway for several hours. Little stirred in the heat. Presently they turned off the highway and into a small abandoned settlement. Tony saw from the damage that fighting had occurred here a couple of days ago. Thompson examined a few buildings and returned. He pointed one small one out as safe and Tony ordered his men to stay away from the rest. Whilst they got settled he followed Thompson round and was shown a number of bombs he would certainly not have noticed. All were booby trapped. 'Couple of days work here,' Thompson told him.

Just as he began to feel something like respect for the expert, Koskinen came to talk to him. 'Sir, do you have a minute?'

'Sure,' he replied, leaving his sleeping bag half unrolled. 'What's up?'

'He's gone. He's taken a jeep.' He didn't need to ask who it was.

'How long ago?' he inquired. Learning it was about an hour ago, and that the jeep had been heading towards a nearby small town, Tony got up. 'I'll go find him. I want sentries posted; I'm not sure how secure a territory we're in.'

He took Ray with him, as Koskinen said he could find anything. They drove round a small town, Tony getting increasingly irritated with the locals' driving. 'There he is sir,' Ray pointed out in the end. Tony parked the car on the sidewalk and rushed to grab the expert.

'What the hell do you think you're doing, staring at the women?' he cried. 'Get in the car now.'

Thompson gazed at him insolently. Tony grabbed him by the collar and hauled him into the jeep, slamming the door behind him. He drove off at a furious pace, forcing a few of the locals off the roads. 'I want to talk to you,' he said, still furious as they drew up outside their settlement. 'You NEVER wander off again, do you hear me?'

'Or what?' demanded Thompson, unafraid. 'You going to put me in cuffs and deal with the bombs yourself?' He gave a loud laugh. 'Didn't think so. Every mission I go on I get a different lieutenant, they all think so highly of themselves.' He laughed at Tony again.

'You're going to take my orders seriously,' Tony answered, furiously, aware of every one of his men watching. 'You wander off again on a mission, you'll regret it. I won't have you annoy our "allies".'

'You gonna make me?' He gazed challengingly at Tony. Tony felt his fists clench.

'Yeah,' he replied. 'You want to be taught a lesson?' He removed his jacket. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his men gathering closer together. Thompson removed his own jacket. His stance indicated aggression as well as some knowledge of self-defense.

They circled each other warily for a few seconds, before Tony landed his first punch. Thompson hit him back in the stomach. Tony returned the punch, taking out his frustration with the mission and the expert. He wandered what Thompson was fighting - quite a lot by the feel of it. He fought with more skill, but Thompson was the angrier of the two, so the fight lasted several minutes. Eventually Thompson lay on the ground unable to move, whilst Tony managed to stagger to his feet. There were a few cheers from his men. He forced himself to drag Thompson into the old house and threw him on a sleeping bag, before stumbling upstairs to collapse onto his own. Nobody disturbed him.

Next morning he forced himself off his sleeping bag, moving his aching body downstairs to get breakfast. Koskinen handed him a strong mug of coffee with toast which he managed to eat before heading over to Thompson's position. 'Up,' he ordered. 'We've got work to do.'

Disarming a bomb was delicate work requiring several hours. Tony watched the process whilst his men stood sentry duty. They remained in the same settlement for the following three days disarming several more bombs, before heading back for two days of rest.

Anderson contemplated him in silence as he handed in his report. 'What the hell happened to you, Almeida?' he inquired. 'I heard all kinds of rumors. I hope they're not true.'

Tony sighed, knowing his face and arms bore all the bruises of the fight. 'I wouldn't take rumors terribly seriously, sir' he answered.

To his surprise Thompson was sober and ready on time when they set off for their next mission.

They were sent up to the battle front, ordered to inspect a building that was to be used as a rough field hospital. He was ordered to check it out rapidly, wounded were lying in tents. Tony settled his snipers round the building, ordering anyone approaching to be shot on sight, and followed Thompson in, checking for hidden shooters. Gun first; he entered every room silently, watching for booby traps as well as hostiles. They found a bomb in the cellar, which Thompson set about disarming. A moment later he paused. 'It's a decoy, Almeida; there must be another one somewhere. Don't move!' Tony remained absolutely still, watching Thompson search every corner of the cellar. 'Where are you,' he heard Thompson muttering.

'Sir, there's three targets …'

'Get out Almeida, now…..'

Even as he moved, he knew it was too late. The earth exploded. Dust, dirt, pieces of furniture flew into the air, joined by the hundreds of heavy blocks of stone the building had been built of. Basic training kicked in before his conscious mind could ever have decided where to shelter. He threw himself under a doorway, curling into a ball, hands over his head. He didn't hear the explosion, didn't hear anything for quite some time afterwards, as he lay buried, feeling miniscule pieces of debris settling on him.

Tony lay in total darkness. Not a glimmer of light was visible in any direction. Complete silence surrounded him. Slowly he moved his fingers, then his hands, feeling himself for injury. His face appeared ok, as did his arms and stomach, and his right leg. Something heavy trapped his left leg. It was numb at the moment, but he figured that would wear off within minutes. Carefully he attempted to sit up, banging his head before he was halfway up. His hands felt along his area, hoping there was more space a little further along, but, if anything, there was less. Not good, he knew, any rescue attempt would leave precious little space for anything to fall round him. 'Focus, Almeida' he muttered. First things first, he would attempt to free his leg. A stone block appeared to be pinning it down. He moved both arms towards it and decided which side to place it on after he moved it. He refused to consider the possibility of being unable to lift it.

Eventually it took three attempts to shift the block off his leg. The earth creaked and dislodged more dust on him, but nothing larger fell. He breathed a silent prayer of thanks, feeling the injury. His fingers felt a large tear in his skin, pierced by a broken bone, which he could also feel, sticking through the wound. Slowly he moved his hands towards his pocket, searching for his clean handkerchief. The wound needed to be kept clean, an infection would kill him within days.

'Days.' He ran the word through his mind slowly, preparing himself for lying incarcerated for a long period before rescue. They had received a little training on being stuck in a hole the size of a grave, being forced to spend an hour each in silent darkness under the earth. Anyone who had panicked was pulled out, yelled at and stuck back inside for two hours. He had kept a reign on his own fear, knowing two hours would be more than he could handle. What advice had they been given? 'Focus on something, imagine yourself somewhere else.'

After he bound up his leg as well as he could, he listened hard. He thought he could hear some creaking in the distance, which was good, he told himself firmly, as it meant his hearing had returned. He called for help a couple of times but heard no answering cry or tap. Tony lay back and attempted to focus on his home, imagining every detail of the house, every room, all the furniture, and finally his entire family there. He pictured himself returning, being greeted by all of them in turn, eating his favorite food, playing his guitar. Sharp pain from his leg brought him back to his surroundings. He flicked the illumination on his watch. It was past midnight, he had been there at least nine hours. Why couldn't he hear any rescue attempt?

What if his men had been attacked and lay dead above him? What if they had been ordered to fight somewhere else and he had been abandoned? They were at war, maybe no one could spare the time to dig him out? He pushed those negative thoughts away and concentrated on his leg.

He attempted to push it onto his good leg, hoping a raised position would help the pain, but it made little difference. Tony forced himself to breath deeply and slowly, trying to expel the increasing pain. Was it his imagination, or was the air turning stale? An hour later he had his answer. The air was indeed turning stale; he would have to move something to let a little more in. His fingers searched every inch of the hole he lay in, finding a few large stones. They closed round the closest one and pulled, bringing another shower onto himself. This time he could definitely feel fresh air blowing from somewhere. He would not suffocate.

By the following evening he was fighting a losing battle with despair. The darkness was complete, the silence relentless. Nothing moved apart from himself, the building having settled hours ago. The pain in his leg had changed from a maddening sharp pain to a steady throbbing. The wound was certainly infected, he knew. Poison would start moving through his blood, he would get sick soon. Just pressing the area surrounding the wound was agony, causing him to scream. He had been stuck here for a day and a half, and no rescue had been attempted. He prayed for help.

His own attempt at digging himself out failed within minutes. A steady shower of earth moved towards him, bringing larger objects with it. In despair he pushed his hand against the hole, attempting to block any further objects from sliding towards him. It took a few minutes before things settled, leaving him less space than he had had previously.

Not unexpectedly he developed a fever by the following evening. Two and a half days trapped, and still complete silence. His mouth was parched, his throat hurt from the dust. Nobody needed him, it was obvious. They hadn't even bothered to try digging him out. His leg was hot to the touch, causing him unbearable pain. He drifted in and out of consciousness.

Finally he heard some sound, though he was too sick to recognize it at first. A machine was working, dogs barked. The ground shook, dislodging more stones. One landed on his wound raising a shriek from him. The machine stopped, the dogs' bark changed... He fought to stay awake, heard his name being called. His attempt at a call for help came out as a dry whisper, unheard by human ear. The dogs heard him, barking louder. Freeing him took a further five hours, while he struggled to remain conscious.

Bright light shone directly above his face, causing his eyes to close and his hand to cover them tightly. More rocks were moved, and he was lifted out, laid on a stretcher and carried to a chopper.

He came round once on a plane, not good, he knew; it meant he had serious injuries they couldn't treat in Kuwait. A doctor woke him the second time, as he was prepared for surgery. Tony felt a mask on his face and forced his eyes open, pushing it off. Hands held him down firmly as the mask was reapplied. He made himself sit up, tearing it off his face. 'My leg.'

'Now, err, Almeida,' began a doctor, consulting his file briefly, 'there's little I can do to save it. It's badly infected, there are several broken bones, it would require about nine hours of surgery which you wouldn't survive.'

Tony sat up straighter, ignoring his dizziness and grabbed the doctor firmly by his gown. 'Save it. It doesn't matter otherwise.' Hands pushed him down, held the mask on firmly and administered a needle.

When he next awoke he lay in a hospital ward surrounded by medical technology. Frantically he felt for his leg. Relief filled him as he felt a thick wad of bandages down to his foot. He would be ok.

* * *

Staring at the grey ceiling of his cell, Tony remembered refusing to allow the hospital to call his family. They would have been unduly distressed. He spent eight weeks there whilst his leg healed and he learned to walk on it again. When he was pronounced fit for duty by the doctors he left the hospital in Germany and returned to Kuwait, to complete his combat tour.

He was exhausted and in considerable pain. Sleep would help him, but it stubbornly eluded him. Once again he rose and stuck his wrists under the cold tap to relieve the swelling, washing his face before heading back to bed. He gently wiped his face and hands in his blanket and gave in to his overwhelming urge to see Michelle. Carefully he withdrew her photo, the one he always carried in his wallet, now hidden in his t-shirt. Whilst a guard had examined his things during his strip search, he had managed to distract him for the few seconds necessary to lay his palm on the photo and had smuggled it under the t-shirt they had ordered him to put on.

Brown eyes smiled at him, auburn hair hung loose. Gently he ran his index finger down the side of her face, stroking her. He gazed at her picture spellbound for several minutes before hearing the guard patrolling outside. Carefully he tucked it back in his t-shirt, resolved to remove it only during his worst moments. They wouldn't break him, as long as he had her smiling face to look at.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Tony leapt from his seat the minute the plane landed and grabbed his backpack. He received dirty looks from the people he bumped as he rushed for the exit. Never had he witnessed a crew so slow at opening a door as then. Impatiently he pushed his I.D. at a clerk and rushed into the arrivals hall the moment it was returned to him. Now then, who came to pick him up? Eagerly he searched the crowd of milling marines and relatives.

'Mom' he grinned and gave her a huge hug. 'I missed you.' After a minute his mother stepped back and looked at him.

'It's been a long time, Tony. You ok?' He nodded. All the bruises had faded months ago, and most were on his leg anyway, with a bit of luck they would go unnoticed. His mother hugged him again. 'Let's go home' she said.

A grin threatened to split his face. 'Home,' how he'd missed that word! 'So what have you been up to lately? I just get the usual letters not really telling me anything. Somehow I can't believe you're just playing pool in the officer's club!'

'Oh, mainly. Of course we've been outside practicing stuff in the desert. Sometimes we go on long patrols, drive in the sand, pitch our tents in a different place every night, and keep the border secure. Then we get to go back to base for a couple of days.'

'How long has it been, Tony?'

'Well, after Desert Storm we never really left Kuwait. We've been there this entire combat tour. Twelve months,' he added for her benefit. 'Soon live there long enough to apply for a residence permit' he joked.

His mother didn't laugh. 'We've all missed you, Tony. Couldn't you get posted somewhere in the States now? You've done your share!'

'Not a chance, mom. Listen, how is everyone? I only get fragments of news from you guys too. Oh, I saw Marco two days ago; I had dinner with him on the ship.'

'Well, everyone wants to see you, so we decided to hold a big party for our anniversary and have them all come. Your father is expecting a hand with some colorful lights.'

Tony grinned again. It sounded familiar enough. He allowed his head to rest on the seat and watched the familiar streets. It was great being able to read all their names so easily, he reflected.

At home he was the centre of attention from the moment he climbed out of the car. Bobby, Joey and Maria had remained home from school to welcome him. He handed them all the presents his bag was full of, and went upstairs to shower and change. Joey's newest model lay on the floor; he stepped over the pieces and laid his bag on the bed. Without conscious thought he pushed the window as wide open as it could get. Everything was as he had left it two years ago. Opening his drawer he selected a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt and headed into the bathroom, grinning again at the familiar clutter. Sponges and shampoos, at least eight towels, brushes and combs, a little make-up, and a bottle of disinfectant crowded the area round the basin. Tony pushed a couple of bottles away and laid his clothes down. Turning the taps to provide as warm water as they could, he moved over to the window and opened it. He intended to have a long shower and his mother always grumbled about steam.

'Yeah, mom, just hanging round the officer's club, or camping in the desert,' he said to himself under the stream of water. 'Oh, didn't I mention being blown up, buried alive? It was nothing really, just four days in the dark, expecting the building to crush me.' He leaned against the cold tiles and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. 'Get a grip, Almeida' he muttered to himself sternly. 'Keep acting like this and they'll soon figure out you're not all there.' He dried himself vigorously and dressed. This constant need for fresh air would pass; he had been assured by the shrink. Deep down he was beginning to doubt it.

His father had arrived home and also hugged him tightly. Tony allowed himself to relax. He was safe here. His mother handed him a pile of plates to lay on the table, he placed them carefully, noting Jane and Marco's absence sadly. Rita and Anna burst through the door together, squealing. 'Hey, Tony, you're really back. Almost forgot what you looked like,' Anna teased. 'Now, where's my present!'

'What makes you think you got one?' he teased, relaxing a little more. The house was becoming quite crowded now, really like home.

'Now Tony, I wrote that I wanted a camel and a Bedouin rider' Anna told him firmly. 'Where are they?'

He laughed and handed her a wooden carving. Rita got a thick book about Arabic history. His bag was empty now, so he placed it in the cupboard behind the broom, his uniform folded inside it.

After lunch he helped set up the colorful lights in the garden. It almost felt strange to be laying wires for lights, rather than explosives. 'Are you ok, Tony?' inquired his father. What had he done to arouse suspicion, he wandered? He nodded, resolving not to daydream.

That night he lay awake listening to his brothers' breathing, wandering why they hadn't questioned him about the war. One of his parents must have forbidden it, he thought grimly. Unable to sleep, he grabbed his blanket and wandered outside on the verandah, settling on a sofa swing. Birdsong woke him up at dawn. He shivered slightly and grabbed his blanket, freezing the moment he caught sight of movement.

'Tony, what are you doing out here?' inquired his father, surprised.

He shrugged. 'Guess I'm too used to camping,' he replied, slipping past him upstairs.

Home certainly had remained the same; he awoke to the usual hectic morning. Bobby and Joey were late to school, Maria just discovered a project she hadn't started yet, and their mother was getting cross. Tony threw his clothes on and offered to drive the boys to school, so they could all have a relaxed breakfast. 'Go help mom' he told his brothers and grabbed his sister. 'Show me the homework.'

Maria handed him an assignment about Ancient Egypt. He grabbed encyclopedia E and began writing rapidly. Half an hour later he handed Maria a neatly typed assignment with a few diagrams he'd drawn. 'Mari, just in case you need to know, your assignment concentrated on pyramid design' he told her. 'Next time give it to me sooner. Now where are the boys?'

He drove to the school in record time, noting the boys clinging to each other a few times. 'Can't be late,' he told them firmly. 'In some places you just put your hand on the horn and go.' He dropped them right at the school gate.

'Will you come watch me playing baseball?' Bobby inquired. Tony gazed in silence at the school. 'Please, Tony, coz next time you come home I won't even be in school anymore.'

'Ok, I'll come' he promised, reluctantly. He wouldn't have minded never seeing the inside of the place again. He drove to his sister's house. No matter how often he came he always had an uncomfortable feeling he shouldn't be there. Hopefully Robert was out. Robert, however, was home, eating breakfast, showing displeasure at his early visit. Jane rushed into his arms.

'Hi, Tony, it's great to see you.' He grinned back at her and accepted a coffee. He answered all her questions about the war as honestly as he could, noting Robert's growing annoyance at him. He cut his intended visit short, pleading lots of work at home to prepare for the party. 'Damn that Robert' he thought for what seemed like the ten thousandth time. 'What can she see in him?'

That morning he tidied up his parents' garden in preparation for the party and had a quiet lunch with his mother. She filled him in on all the various relatives' news, and he related a few amusing details about boot camp. Enough time had passed for him to see the humor in getting disciplined by an angry Wills.

As soon as he helped clear the table he called his grandfather. They spoke for a long while, until Tony achieved what he'd hoped for. His grandfather would come to visit them in LA. He grinned, delighted, as he was unable to leave the country.

That afternoon he drove back to the school to watch Bobby play baseball. The coach came over to greet him after the game, inquiring as to how long he planned to stay in the army. He shrugged, uncertain himself. 'I'm not real sure yet. As long as I'm needed, I guess.'

'A war hero, ah?' inquired the coach.

'Hardly' Tony replied. 'I had it quiet compared to some others.'

He glanced at Bobby. 'Ready to go, Bob?' His brother nodded. Tony laid the ball back in the shed, and collected Bobby's bag.

'Tony,' said the coach, quietly. He turned, surprised to find the man regarding him almost sadly. 'Take care.'

'Sure' he replied, touched. No one outside his family had shown concern for him before. He followed Bobby through the school grounds, noting the buildings appeared to have changed little over the past nine years. Even the conversations he heard around him sounded familiar. They waited a few minutes for Joey to finish. He peeped into the classroom. Joey stood at the board working on a physics equation, while the class packed a few things in their bags. He grinned, proud of his youngest brother. Joey had skipped a grade and still came top of his class in everything.

Bobby peered through as he stepped back. 'Oh no, Jo's holding another lecture' he groaned. 'Every time he gets to answer a question he attempts to discuss the whole book!' The class began to fidget openly. Finally the teacher intervened, thanking Joey and dismissing them all.

'Hi Tony, did you see me answer the homework question?' he asked, looking thrilled when Tony nodded. 'When did you get here?'

'I came to watch Bob play baseball' he said, seeing a sudden shadow across Joey's face. 'Hey,' he encouraged his youngest brother, the only one who showed no athletic ability whatsoever, 'I'll come watch you lecturing at college.'

'I won't!' Bobby said firmly, glancing through Joey's bag. 'I get to listen every night at home! Jo, where's your literature book? You're supposed to pick it up from the library today, remember.'

'Tony, will you wait a sec?' Joey asked and hurried to the library. Tony laughed. He wished he could spend more time with these two young brothers who had grown so much since he'd last seen them. 'He's turning into an absent minded professor, alright.'

'He wouldn't have a clue what day it is,' complained Bobby. 'I got to keep reminding him what he needs to take home or bring here. Mom tells me off if I forget. She's given up telling him. Oh no,' he muttered under his breath.

Surprised at the sudden change in his mood, Tony glanced up. He groaned too and opened Jo's bag in a hurry, keeping his face down. The headmaster appeared a little older, despite holding himself ramrod straight. He walked through the corridor telling off a couple of boys on his way. To their dismay he paused in front to Bobby. 'Roberto, I've just spoken to your chemistry teacher. It appears you have no explanation for your absence from his class on Monday. If I don't see a note from one of your parents explaining why you couldn't arrive at school until 11 .00 o'clock, I'll suspend you!'

Tony zipped Joey's bag and stood up, holding the headmaster's gaze with his own. 'He came to the airport to meet me,' he lied, convincingly. 'You'll have your note by tomorrow.' He permitted a slight sneer to appear on his face.

The headmaster gazed at him equally coldly. 'Tony Almeida, you haven't changed much. Last I heard you were in the army. It appears they had as little success training you in basic discipline as I had.'

Tony's fists clenched. 'Yeah, I fought in Somalia and later in the Gulf. You know, the war to liberate Kuwait. You might have seen it on TV' he concluded, sarcastically. Beside him Bobby let out a strangled laugh.

The headmaster fixed him with a stern expression. Tony decided against pursuing the conversation any further as his brother would end up paying for it later. 'We got to go now,' he said, seeing Joey with a handful of books.

'Real pleasant guy' Tony remarked as he unlocked the car for his brothers.

Bobby burst out laughing. 'I guess he'll be real mad tomorrow. It might be an idea to be away!' He climbed in after Joey. 'Ah, Tony, about that note. Mom's not going to write one. Do you still remember how to....'

'No way, Bobby, I promised I'd never do it again. I'll write you one and sign it myself, it should do. Want to tell me where you were Monday morning?'

'Not really,' Bobby answered, laughing. Tony fixed him a stern glance through the mirror. 'Well, a couple of guys went surfing. I'm getting real good at it. It was much better than a double session of chem.'

He shook his head again, marveling how similar his brother was to himself. The same wise remarks, the same love of life, only nobody had placed any responsibility on him. 'Kind of surprising he wants to suspend you straight away, Bobby.'

'He's tried everything else,' Joey interrupted cheerfully.

Tony dropped Joey at home, and then invited Bobby to accompany him shopping. 'Do I have to come?' He nodded firmly. Bobby sighed. 'You're going to play army officer and chew me out, right?'

'Right' said Tony. 'From what I've heard you're real close to being expelled. How do you think Mom or Papa would feel about that? They're paying an awful lot of money they can't really afford to keep you there. Now if you want to become a naval officer you'd better start learning to follow the rules, or you'll have a terrible time next year. Trust me, I know!' Bobby nodded, subdued.

That night his father joined him on the garden sofa. 'It is nice outside,' he said softly, sitting next to Tony. 'Want to tell me what happened in the last few months?' He pushed a beer into his son's hand. Tony began to say nothing particularly exciting had occurred but his father knew him too well and refused to be put off. With a sigh of resignation Tony finished his beer and explained about the explosion that had trapped him underground for four days. He saw the horror on his father's face, and fetched them both a second beer.

'I'm ok, Papa, really,' he said.

The party on the weekend was just what he needed. A lot of his mother's relatives had flown over from Chicago, most of whom he hadn't seen for over three years. His grandfather arrived from Mexico. Only Marco was missing. As evening fell they settled down to dinner in the garden, with the colorful lights making the garden festive. After all the food had been eaten Tony rose. 'Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad. We all saved up and got you something.' He lifted two large boxes onto the table. 'It's a 12 piece dinner set, only we figured there were already so many of us that 12 wouldn't really be enough, so we got an extra 12 plates.'

'Hear that, kids? Any of you want to add to the family, it's about time. We'd love to be grandparents.' Everyone laughed.

After dinner Tony was persuaded to play something on the guitar. He went upstairs to fetch it, feeling awkward as he hadn't played in front of such an audience before. He ran his fingers over the strings, played a few chords and decided on what to play. Soon he found himself sitting on the verandah playing quietly at first, then more confidently. His audience was uncritical, applauding each song and eagerly demanding another. The neighbors must hate us, he thought as a clock struck two. Feeling thirsty he put a CD on and went to get himself a beer. He settled at the kitchen table by himself, watching the party through the window, trying to commit every moment to memory, to take back to Kuwait with him.

Long after his glass was finished he heard movement. His grandfather settled on another chair, regarding him gravely. 'It's tough out there, isn't it?'

Tony nodded, desperately wishing he could forget all about Kuwait. 'When it's all over I'll come stay with you for a while,' he said.

'I'll wait for you. Your bed is still made up, you know.' Tony actually laughed. 'We must just make sure we are both still around by that time.'

'We will be' he replied with a confidence he did not feel.

* * *

Tony rubbed his face, hoping his brothers were both okay. Today was the first day he hadn't logged on to check their emails. They would wait for his email all day, he knew. By tomorrow morning they'd both call his parents. 


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Seeing Captain Anderson sitting in the reception area reassured Tony somewhat. He had spent the previous hour running through the last several weeks, wandering what action could have irritated the colonel. He settled in a chair opposite his captain. Anderson laid down the newspaper he was reading and waved at his salute. 'At ease, Almeida. Did you put down EVERYTHING that happened on your last patrol?'

So he was also kept in the dark as to the reason they were summoned. Tony nodded. 'Yes sir.'

'You sure you didn't piss off any important sheikh? None of your men caused any offence?'

'Sir, we saw no one the entire patrol' Tony reassured him. 'We didn't even see any camels, nothing. Only trails of camel dung. And clouds of flies.'

Anderson pressed his lips together. 'Alright, Almeida, I get the picture. Seems like we're being trusted with an important mission then.' He didn't look keen on the prospect.

The secretary approached them, telling them they should enter. Tony followed Anderson in and they both saluted. They stood at attention while the colonel examined them. 'At ease' he said finally, waving them to two chairs. 'Now I'll outline your new mission, run Almeida's part through with you, then I'll discuss a few matters with you in private, Captain.'

'Yes Sir,' they answered in unison. 'Alright, there's a medium sized oil field out in the desert,' he pointed to the location. 'It's been the target of repeated sabotage in the last few weeks, always pipelines vandalized, oil leaking out, forcing the wells to be closed. You can imagine how much it's costing the company to keep repairing their equipment. Three days ago a British mechanic went missing. The police are still attempting to locate him. Local security forces seem unable to secure the area. I'm sending you and your men there to eliminate the threat, Anderson. I want you to find those responsible, and get rid of them. Almeida will watch the wells during the nights.' He turned to face Tony. 'Anything at all moves, you blow its brains out. Got it?'

'Sir' Tony protested. 'Shouldn't we try to capture them first? Question them, maybe? We're not at war anymore.'

'Almeida, you'll follow your orders to the letter,' hissed the colonel. 'It's not your position to question anything. Now the person we suspect of enflaming the situation is pretty religious. You're to take him out first. Enter his home, and kill him. Of course this is not an official mission, so don't get caught.'

'Sir, I'm a sniper, not a hired assassin!' Tony exclaimed. 'I can't enter someone's house and shoot them in front of their family. It's…'

'Almeida, I won't tolerate insubordination,' thundered the colonel. 'You will shoot him at home, where it will cause the least disturbance and get back out without leaving a trace of your presence. Otherwise it'll be you standing in front of that wall waiting for a bullet. Have I made myself clear?'

'Yes sir,' Tony replied, trying to keep the rage out of his voice.

'Dismissed' ordered the colonel. He turned and left the area, fuming. He left the door open, not trusting himself to close it quietly enough, and took a few deep breaths. It failed to relax him.

'Lieutenant Almeida, Captain Anderson wants to see you in his office right away,' one of his men told him. Tony fired several rounds into the bull's eye before leaving the rifle range. 'Sir, we've been looking for you everywhere.'

Tony entered Anderson's office far from resigned to their mission. 'You wanted to see me, sir?'

'I did, for the past two hours! You're on duty; you failed to log a contact point.' Anderson threw him a stern expression.

'Ok, sir, so I'm here now,' Tony said. 'You can chew me out for leaving the colonel's door open.'

'Well, you did manage to infuriate him,' Anderson began. 'I had to promise to discipline you. Lieutenant Almeida, neither of us is in a position to question the C.O.'s orders. We're here to follow them, regardless of our personal feelings. You, by the way, need to work on hiding yours, if you want to avoid trouble.'

'That's what they argued at Nuremberg,' Tony began. 'Just following orders, only it wasn't exactly accepted.'

'Almeida! We're only supposed to eliminate terrorists, there's nothing immoral about that. Those oil fields need to be secured. We've got a share in them, too.'

'I wander how many shares Colonel Burrows owns in this oil company,' Tony muttered.

Anderson leapt to his feet. 'That's enough, Almeida! You're implying an ulterior motive to his defense policies, without the slightest piece of evidence. You're confined to quarters until 19.00 hours. I suggest you use that time to settle down.'

Tony saluted and left the captain, returning to his room. He sat furiously on his bed. He had eight hours to spend by himself, in his tiny room. What was he supposed to do with himself for that length of time? An hour later, after a long cold shower, he grabbed a notebook and pen and began to plan the mission, drawing a detailed map of where he would post his men during the nights spent guarding the wells. He worked out a schedule to rotate them. After he completed that he began to feel hungry. 13.00 hours, already past lunch time. Tony opened his drawer and ate the remainder of his packet of crackers. He wandered over to the window and watched a few soldiers sweeping the yard. Time seemed to slow. He finished the crackers and threw the packet in the bin. He felt only slightly less hungry than before. Damn Anderson, he thought in disgust. It was obvious the mission was distasteful to him too, yet he would have to stand by the colonel and back him up. He had probably finished a huge lunch and…. Tony got up and grabbed his notebook again. Provisions! He entertained himself with writing a list of food they would need for two weeks, by which time he hoped to have the situation under control.

As soon as his watch showed seven pm he left his room and hurried to the officers' mess hall to grab some dinner. 'Almeida, join me.' He sighed, carrying his tray over to sit opposite his captain. The last thing he needed was to get scolded during dinner, he thought gloomily. He laid the notebook in front of Anderson, who appeared to have finished his meal.

'Rotation list, positioning, and provisions, Sir.' Anderson glanced through the pages with interest.

'Well done, Almeida. You have put your time to good use. Are you ok with the mission now?'

Tony chewed slowly, glancing at the captain. He appeared to be genuinely interested in his opinion. 'Not really, sir. I have no problem shooting terrorists, but to kill one in his own home, I'm not sure I can do that.' To his relief Anderson remained silent.

'We'll assess the situation for ourselves, once we get there,' he said quietly. 'Prepare your men for an early departure. We'll go directly after breakfast.'

The ride was long and uneventful. Tony ordered his men to set up their tents and went to find Anderson. 'Sir, we'll be set in another hour. Do you have any orders until evening?'

'No, let the men rest. As soon as it's dark we're to head over to the oil-field, lie low and if we're extremely fortunate catch some terrorists. We can deal with their leader after we shoot the men.' Tony nodded, gratefully.

'Yes sir,' he said.

Darkness descended rapidly once the sun moved below the horizon. They drove quietly along the dirt road to the oil-fields, not daring to shine their headlights. Once they arrived Tony issued each man with a radio and positioned them in the small sand dunes, where they could observe events undetected. He chose the most likely target for himself, the furthest well, beside the pipeline that led towards the coast.

He settled down for a long wait. The night was dark, lit only by a half moon, shining from a clear sky. Beneath him the sand turned cool. Above him countless stars twinkled, he ran through the constellations. If he strained his eyes he could make out two of his men, also lying flat. Tony drank from his water bottle, pouring a little on his face and rubbing it on his arms, forcing himself to stay awake. Anderson would relieve them at 3.00 a.m. with the other half of his men. An hour later he called all his men quietly on their radios, checking they were all ok. They all reported in.

They spent the following three nights repeating the same routine. Tony took the first watch with half his men, relieved by Anderson and the rest of them. During the day they lay low, eating from cold ration packs they all grew thoroughly sick of. He began to wander whether the saboteurs knew of their presence and decided to lie low whilst they were around, knowing they would be recalled eventually. The boredom could be noticed among the men as well. Small arguments broke out between them, quickly soothed over, but warning him of the need to keep them occupied.

He broached the subject with Anderson after the fifth day. How much longer would they be expected to spend there? Anderson informed him they would remain until they caught the terrorists, however long it took, as per Colonel Burrows' order.

'I'd like to see how long he would stay camping in the heat, and keeping watch on empty oil fields,' Tony muttered under his breath.

Captain Anderson laid his sports magazine on the floor. 'You have something to say, Almeida?' he inquired. He showed the same boredom as the rest of them. Tony shook his head. 'Then I suggest you get some rest.'

Tony returned to his tent and wrote a letter to his grandfather, describing camping in the desert without giving any specific details. He swatted a fly that insisted on settling on his arm and stinging. The main problem with the location, he decided, were the constant flies that were impossible to keep out of the tents. They were large and stung everyone, leaving painful red sores for several days. He gave in to the urge to scratch a particularly nasty bite on his arm.

That evening they settled in their customary positions, seeing the area more clearly as the moon was now three quarters full. Tony peeled his eyes on the distance, tracing a pattern idly with his fingers in the sand. Sudden movement caused his fingers to freeze. Had he seen something? Rapidly he wiped the sand off his hands and reached for his rifle. Movement caught his eye again. He radioed Koskinen, warning him they had company. Around him he felt his men preparing for combat. 'Hold it till they arrive. Let's give them a chance to start something. Fire only on my order.'

Tony watched them silently, pressed deep into the sand. They began rolling out a long wire, attaching it to sticks of dynamite. Each man was heavily armed. 'On my mark,' Tony whispered into the radio. 'Fire.' A volley of shots shattered the silence. Several terrorists lay dead. The remaining ones took cover behind some oil wells and fired back. Tony took one out as he rose to take a shot at one of his men. He noticed the rest were inaccessible from his position, so he left his hiding spot and crept round in the darkness, shooting them from behind. 'Location secure. Report in,' he instructed his men, listening as each reported in. They had been completely successful – all the terrorists were eliminated and none of them had received an injury.

'Well done, guys' Tony told them. He radioed in to let Anderson know their success. Anderson congratulated them, and ordered them to remain where they were as he would join them. He arrived half an hour later, searching the bodies for IDs.

'None of these people ever carry anything,' he grumbled. 'Congratulations, Almeida. Now, I'll take the men back to our tents and get started packing up. You'll take the jeep, drive towards town, enter their leader's house and shoot him.' He gave Tony a hard look. 'We can't leave him here, Almeida; it'll all start again, worse than before. Now here's a map of the town, the guy's house is circled in red. There's his photo. Once you take him out, you're to drive back to base on the double.' He turned to go, adding, 'Don't get captured, whatever you do. You realize it's an unauthorized mission.'

'Yeah, I get the picture,' Tony replied. 'I get sent in to do the dirty work, and if I'm caught it's too bad, I'm alone.'

He settled into the jeep bitterly and started it up. 'Was it pure coincidence that he got this mission?' he wandered. Would Macintyre ever be handed anything like it? He doubted it. Twenty minutes later he made out the first stone buildings and parked the car. He took the map, studied it for a moment, and set off. 'Cheer up, Almeida,' he told himself as he ran towards the houses, 'as soon as this is over you get to return to the base, you can call home…And tell them what? "Hi, mom, guess what?" No, better not call, better write a postcard instead.'

Too soon, he arrived at the house he was heading towards. It was a two storey white stone building, identical to all the others on the street. The door was bolted, and the windows heavily shuttered. Tony silently poured a little acid on the bolt and watched as it burned through. It appeared Anderson had prepared well for this mission! He pushed the door open and crept inside. Using night vision, he searched the rooms carefully. The house had obviously been occupied, but fortunately didn't appear to show any trace of children. Downstairs was quiet, he crept up a flight of stairs, feeling exposed. Once upstairs he resumed his search of the rooms. So far he had found nothing to indicate any terrorist activity. Two more doors remained. What if he found his target asleep in bed? Could he just shoot him? Tony chewed his lip hard and turned a handle silently. He gasped, sickened, by what awaited him. The body of the missing oil worker lay there, in the early stages of decomposition. He gagged, backing out onto the landing.

A bolt being drawn back made him freeze. Cold steel was pressed against his temple. The man he had been sent to assassinate stood in front of him, beside the younger man who held a gun against him. The bearded man spoke, and the younger one translated. 'Drop your weapon.' Carefully he dropped his gun, watching another younger man, also heavily armed, retrieve it.

'Why did you kill him?' Tony inquired, nodding his head at the body. 'He was only a mechanic.'

The third man grabbed his hair and slammed his face into the wall. His head spun, he tasted blood in his mouth. Blood poured from his nose over his clothes. The old man spoke again, and the younger man forced him against the wall, raising his own gun. Tony pretended to stumble from dizziness; whipping out his second gun tucked just above his left boot, and shot all three of them before they had a chance to move. Bodies fell all around him. The old man was dead, together with the man who'd first held the gun against his head. The other stirred faintly. Tony placed a second bullet into him before stumbling down the stairs.

The street appeared to be deserted, shrouded in darkness. Tony kept to the shadows and ran as silently as he could, aware of the need to put as much distance between himself and the town as possible. He only allowed himself to stop once he reached the car, unlocking the door and driving off at breakneck speed.

* * *

Kuwaiti police had discovered the bodies the following day, raising an outcry. Colonel Burrows steadfastly denied any involvement with the shootings, moving Anderson and his men outside the country. Anderson got leave for six weeks, whilst Tony was sent to join their base in Saudi Arabia with his men.

Burrows called him in before he left. 'Well done, Almeida. You're to report to a Captain Grey until Anderson gets back.'

His request for a week home was denied on the grounds that he had been granted leave six months previously. By afternoon he was on a ship with his men, watching the dark blue sea from the deck.

That mission was only the start of a long series of covert assignments he undertook both in the army and later for CTU, missions which were classified and which he wasn't able to discuss with anyone. Eventually his family gave up inquiring as to what he was really doing, contending themselves with checking he was physically ok. Almost imperceptibly a wedge was driven between him and the rest of them.

He sighed silently. Memories of his next few missions were not helping him relax at all. If he wanted to get any extra rest before dinner he would have to push them away and focus on something else. Once again he got out of bed and went to the basin for some water, running more over his wrists. He closed his eyes as the cool water ran over them, imagining himself in his parents' house. He doubted his father had gone to work that day. No, he would have spent the day home, attempting to comfort his mother, reassure her and himself that their son would be alright. His mother would be crying, and his father would be sitting silently beside her, just as they had sat when news of the grandparents' deaths arrived. Tony was forced to rub his face into his t-shirt.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

It had been another dismal night. Tony had paced up and down in his room, trying to ease strong stomach cramps to no avail. By morning he had a mild fever. He spent a long time under a hot shower trying to ease the pain, before toweling off and running a comb through his hair. Yet again he headed to the medical centre rather than the officers' mess hall. Early as he was, he was by no means the first arrival. He settled into a chair to await his turn to be examined by the doctor, although it was becoming a futile pastime. The doctor would be sure to ask him the same questions as before, and hand him another dose of the same antibiotics he had lived on since his arrival at their base in Saudi Arabia.

'Almeida' called the doctor and he went into the now familiar surgery. Without waiting to be asked he settled in the chair opposite the doctor's desk. The doctor glanced at him wordlessly for a few seconds. 'No better, ah' he inquired.

Had he felt fractionally better Tony might have made some cutting remark about the effectiveness of the antibiotics. As it was, he merely shook his head. A wave of nausea took him and he pressed a handkerchief to his mouth. These days he never left his room without it. What he really longed to do was curl up in a ball and groan aloud.

'I think it's time you tried something a little stronger' the doctor said and typed into his computer. 'Try this tablet four times a day for five days and you'll get better.'

'Are you real sure?' Tony couldn't resist asking.

'Well, what can I say? You already know not to drink any water other than mineral water. Oh, maybe you better use that to brush your teeth with too.'

'What, use half my pay on bottled water?' Tony asked in despair.

'It's better than feeling this sick. Now, I'm going to give you three days rest. You look like you could use it.'

Tony didn't object. He really couldn't have handled watching his men training like this. He returned to his quarters and took the first tablet out of this new packet, and lay down on his bed. Maybe if he lay still he could manage to keep it down long enough to do some good.

His phone rang. He rolled over to answer it, expecting Captain Grey to inquire about his whereabouts. Today he just COULDN'T do anything. He was heartily sick of Grey's comments about malingering and sick leave. Armed with the doctor's certificate, he felt braver. 'Look, can't you just give me a break, Captain? You know I got sick leave!'

'Tony?' He sat up, amazed. His mother's voice demanded to know exactly what was wrong with him. She didn't accept any of his explanations about a mild stomach ache, insisting on finding out the exact date it began.

'Tony, you're really not well at all.' He listened to her with closed eyes, lying back down, longing to see her again. 'I'll come out and visit you!'

Shocked, he sat up in bed. 'Mom, you can't come out here. It's too far. I'll be ok eventually.'

His mother heard the weakness in his voice. 'No, Tony, _you_ listen. I'll come on a military transport plane with the other families. Just fill in the request.'

'Mom, it's not your type of place. Besides, what about the kids?'

Tony's mother was not to be deterred. 'Your father can take care of them for a couple of weeks. They're not babies anymore, Maria is eleven now! Rita can help him; she seems to have plenty of time. The others will be occupied enough with school, but I'll bring Anna. A change would do her good. Fill in the request and try to sleep a little.'

He agreed, as he knew further argument was futile. It didn't take him long to request two seats on the next transport out of the States, and he spent the rest of the day in bed, not brave enough to attempt eating anything.

The following morning he visited his men in their barracks. Sergeant Koskinen greeted him cheerfully. 'Don't worry, sir, you'll be better soon. After a few months you get used to these bugs. Half the platoon is sick too.' Speechless, Tony took the sick book and counted the number of names listed. At least he wasn't suffering alone, he thought grimly. He gave instructions to keep the day as easy as possible and returned to his quarters. Walking was becoming an effort now, he thought, as he was forced to pause and lean against a wall. He couldn't remember feeling this weak before.

That evening he stumbled back to the surgery to ask if the doctor had anything to make him feel better just temporarily, as he had to pick his mother up. The doctor examined him and shook his head. He would admit Tony to the base hospital instead to be treated for dehydration. Tony protested vehemently, wandering what his mother would think if he wasn't there to greet her, to no avail. Before he was fully aware of what was happening he was led to a bed and settled comfortably. A needle was inserted into his arm and an I.V. of fluid attached. He watched it drip slowly into him.

'Could you make this go a bit faster?' he begged the doctor.

'Almeida, you're going to have to relax,' replied the doctor, beginning to lose patience. 'This goes as fast as it goes. It'll take a couple of hours. You're going nowhere till morning, and then only if I say so!' Tony sighed heavily and opened his mouth, but the doctor beat him to it. 'Your mother can come visit you when she arrives.'

Tony lay back gazing at his watch, picturing the plane landing and the passengers disembarking. Whatever would his mother think? He wasn't left to wander too long. An hour later a nurse led her in, instructing them to whisper as there were other patients.

'Hi, mom' Tony sat up, supporting himself with his free arm. His head swam. Weakness forced his eyes closed.

He was given a huge hug. His mother sat next to him. The nurse brought her a chair and she stayed, despite his insistence that she join Anna in the base's family housing they had been given for their stay. Next morning the doctor examined him again and released him on condition he remain in bed and take his medicine.

The house was small but pleasant, with a tiny garden. Tony settled into a cheerful bedroom and listened to Anna describing their trip. She told him all the latest gossip about his brothers and sisters whilst their mother unpacked. By the time he joined her downstairs the place actually looked a little like home, he noted in surprise. Even the bookshelf contained a photo of them, as well as his favorite books.

'Mom, how do you do it?' he asked, impressed.

'Well, Tony, we're supposed to relax for a couple of weeks. How can we do that without a few things from home?' Tony fleetingly wandered how much luggage his mother had managed to get onto the plane. 'Now, lunch. This kitchen has no decent sized saucepans, but we'll just have to manage. We'll need to go shopping immediately.'

'There's a shop somewhere, but we can eat in the canteen…'

'Tony, we'll cook our own food today. We need something normal after that airplane food and you do too, even more than us. And that shop doesn't have half of what I need. I'll just have to go out to the town and…'

'No,' he interrupted forcefully. 'Give me the list and I'll go.'

'You're supposed to be in bed' his mother reminded him, pushing him onto the sofa. 'Rest! Here's the list.' Tony gazed at the lengthy list in silence.

'Mom, do we really need all this. I don't even know if they keep any of this stuff round here.'

'Tony, this is the bare minimum we'll need. Now find me a car and I'll go.'

'Ah,' he replied, rubbing his face vigorously, 'ah, women don't really drive round here.' He watched his mother's expression change. 'Hey, don't blame me, I didn't write the laws, but they're pretty strict about it. I'll find someone else,' he added hurriedly. Slowly he picked up his phone, wandering just who to ask. A thought crossed his mind and he dialed his barracks.

'Koskinen,' answered his sergeant. Tony sighed, embarrassed.

'Ah, Koskinen, do we have a couple of healthy guys available for an hour or so?'

'Yes sir,' Koskinen replied, as he had expected. 'What do you need?'

Tony sighed again. 'I'm going to need a few things from town. Send them by and I'll give them the list'. He gave the number of the house and settled back.

.Presently Koskinen arrived with one man he recognized as Ray, Ray of Sunshine everyone called him, though his surname escaped him.

'Good morning Lieutenant Almeida,' Koskinen told him, and both saluted. Anna watched, impressed. 'If you'll give us the list.'

'Koskinen, I didn't want to disturb you.' Tony apologized.

'No sir, it was pretty quiet. I brought Ray, if anyone can locate something, it's him.' He noticed the looks of admiration they cast his sister.

Tony spent a quiet couple of days resting, chatting to his family. His mother spent most of her time with him, while Anna enjoyed the pool and found plenty of people to play tennis with. Three days after his family arrived Tony dressed in his uniform and went in search of his men, to watch them at drill. Paperwork took up the remainder of the morning. He took his mother and sister to eat at the officers' club, and was startled by the amount of people who greeted Anna.

'Where did you meet them all?' he asked her.

Anna grinned at him. 'At the tennis court, mainly. I beat them all, well, almost all. That's Captain Abels, I beat him in straight sets, 6-3 6-2.' Tony gave a gasp. 'Then that's Captain Melville, he was better, I won 6-4 7-5, then that's Colonel James there, he was the best of them all, I beat him 7-5 6-4 3-6 7-5.' Tony gasped in horror. He foresaw an endless row of dreary desert patrols ahead of him. 'We played every morning with the Colonel. He'd really like to win, you can tell. It's funny really.' (He upgraded that to desert patrols in hostile areas). What you really need here is some kind of shelter over the court; it's just too hot to play in the afternoon!'

'John really influenced you,' he told her, half amused, half exasperated.

'More than you know,' she told him, blushing. Tony suddenly wandered why his friend had stopped writing to him a year ago, when he used to write every few months since school. He sent John another email, asking if he was ok and relating Anna's advances in tennis.

'Tony' Anna interrupted him; 'can we PLEASE go out to see the town now. I've got this real long dress, so has Mom. We'll be real discreet.'

Tony sighed, having expected the request for the whole day. 'OK, let me see your dress first.' His mother and sister changed into long dresses that came to their ankles, with long sleeves. A grin split his face as he saw them. 'You guys look like you're acting a part in some Salem witch burning movie.'

'Antonio!' said his mother, sharply.

He shook his head apologetically. 'Sorry, mom. You look fine. Anna here looks the part though, some member of the audience yelling "burn that witch"'. Anna picked up the nearest cushion and threw it at him. He caught it easily. 'Hey, watch it; any damage you make here comes off my pay.'

He set off to borrow a car and returned, to find they had turned the air conditioning on higher. He grinned again, holding the back door open. Anna climbed in with difficulty. 'Damn this skirt! This thing better have an incredible air conditioner.' He nodded.

'Mom, you're not supposed to sit next to me,' he told her, eyeing her warily. 'Women have to sit at the back here.' His mother stared at him speechless. 'Don't look at me like that, I didn't write the rules,' he argued, taking a step backwards, just to be on the safe side. He watched her sit beside Anna. 'Ignore people who stare at you, and don't look anyone in the eye. We're not supposed to annoy the locals.'

He showed his ID at the gate and the car left the base. At first it was little different to being inside, they met only a few returning cars with military personnel. Suddenly they came to the end of the road, and joined the highway. Cars and trucks screeched past, overtaking each other regardless of visibility. Tony noticed his mother closed her eyes a couple of times.

'Watch out' Anna yelled, but he'd already noticed the old truck tearing along directly towards them, pulling off the road to avoid a certain collision. It sped past them, hooting loudly at them and the next several cars. He left the ditch that doubled as the break-down lane carefully and resumed the journey.

'Relax, Mom, we've got air-bags,' he comforted her. 'We'll be there soon.' They left the highway and drove into a small town, surrounded by heavy traffic. 'You want to walk now, or shall I drive round a bit so you can sit in the air-con?' he asked.

'We'll walk!' his mother told him, firmly. He parked the car and they set off, walking up a slight hill. The streets quickly narrowed, houses on both sides with crowds of people milling about. After a while Tony led them back to the newer part of town, aware of the less than friendly stares they generated.

'You want to see the new shopping centre?' he asked hopefully. Much to his relief they agreed. He led the way, clearing a path through the throngs. Just before they entered an old man with a beard shouted something in his face, spitting on the pavement in front of him. Tony carefully side-stepped and continued walking, pulling his mother along firmly.

'Tony, did you see what he did?'

'Yeah' he answered, entering the building. 'We're supposed to ignore that kind of thing. We retaliate, it causes an incident, and we get busted. By our C.O. Let's look at some presents for the kids instead.'

His mother looked extremely annoyed, but allowed him to lead them inside. The inside of the building was clean and well lit, and they soon found something for the rest of the family. Tony bought them cold drinks and they sat at a table. Anna wiped the sweat off her face. 'I'm going swimming when we get back,' she said.

'We'll all go,' their mother agreed. 'I'm so hot in this dress I can sympathize with Tony, jumping into that fountain back in Chicago.' Anna looked intrigued, glancing at him. He shook his head, shrugging. 'Don't you remember, Tony? It was terribly hot, you were whining, and your grandmother still hadn't found the shoes she was looking for. I was hot too, so we sat down on a bench and I bought us all ice-creams, and while I was paying you managed to fall into this street fountain. The water was green and slimy, and I'd told you a dozen times not to climb there. At least we had to go home after that.'

Anna burst out laughing. 'Mom, I wasn't even two years old,' Tony protested.

Anna laughed merrily, giving him a push. 'Maybe we can find a fountain here for him too.' Tony noticed the other customers regarding them disapprovingly. He got up, pushing back his chair.

'Let's go swimming. In the pool,' he added, giving Anna a slight push. 'Will you quit laughing,' he begged, laughing with her. 'Come on,' he told her, the smile fading from his face, 'let's go now. The religious men have arrived.'

His mother got up in a hurry and they went out to the car. Tony drove home, through the chaos, relaxing once they were inside the base. He dropped his family at the house and returned the car. By the time he rejoined them they had changed into bathers and t-shirts. He was told to meet them at the pool.

* * *

They ended up staying two weeks with him, the best two weeks he had in Saudi Arabia. He was forced to go on a three day patrol during the second week, but was left alone most of the rest of the time. About four months after they left he received another visitor, a totally unexpected one. Tony grinned as he remembered his phone ringing after a tiring day, and being summoned to the gate. 

He paced restlessly, moving from the back of his cell to the front, and back again, feeling dizzy from exhaustion. Now he would certainly be able to get some sleep, he knew. He returned to his bed again and curled up, drifting into a deep sleep.

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	20. Chapter Twenty

The arrival of dinner woke him up, as his tray was pushed through the slot with more force than was necessary. A guard he hadn't seen before banged his night stick on the bars, waiting to make certain he sat up before continuing on his way. Tony rubbed the sleep from his eyes, feeling slightly refreshed. He swung his legs out of bed and went to fetch his tray. A white tablet lay on the corner. As was his routine since his arrival, he took it first, swallowing it down with some water. Thank goodness they hadn't kept his painkiller from him.

Tony examined the food next. His plate was only half full of spaghetti with mince meat. So they had remembered he was on reduced rations. He had been wandering whether that supervisor he attacked would have pulled himself together enough to note it on his card, but he evidently had. He sighed heavily. Of course he felt sick, so he didn't really mind skipping part of a meal, but it also showed these people meant what they said – their threats were to be taken seriously.

Slowly he picked through his meal, attempting to make it last longer. It didn't taste too bad, not as good as he could have made it, but ok considering his location. He stared into the plate, remembering the number of times he had made dinner at home for them, while Michelle either chatted to him or watched something on the TV. She had even called him home from the office a few times when he was forced to stay late. 'Hi Tony, are you coming soon? You were cooking tonight, remember?' A smile played across his face. 'When will you be finished? Can't you do that at home later?' Eventually he would give in, drive home and make the meal he'd promised, typing his report in his laptop in the kitchen.

After finishing his meal he returned the tray to the food slot. Within minutes the guards returned and removed it. He watched them walking down the corridor and out through the steel door. Was he already conforming to the behavior expected of a convict? Yes, he decided, he was. His aching wrists and rumbling stomach were forcing him to consider his every action. It would be pointless disobeying everyday rules. Having his rations reduced would soon weaken him without achieving any benefit.

Once again he ran cold water over his wrists. Moving his hands or even just his fingers was terribly painful. The swelling had not even started to go down. At the moment it was hard to notice he even had wrists, there was no noticeable space between his elbows and his hands. His hands were in no better condition –he couldn't make out any knuckles. This would take days to improve. Tomorrow he would be forced to attend his bail hearing pretty much as he was now, and just hope neither Michelle nor his parents would notice from where they would sit. He would keep his hands as low as he could. They would be distressed if they saw that kind of swelling. Michelle would know at once what had caused it –she would be furious and might say something that would get her in trouble at CTU. If only he had a plug, he thought, he would fill the basin with water and leave his hands inside it for an hour or two. Small items were totally forbidden inside holding cells, though, so he held them under the tap.

He turned off the tap using both hands again and sat in the grey chair for the first time. It was hard, and he felt utterly bored. He got up and paced back and forth for a few minutes, trying to picture what court room his hearing would be held in and who would be present.

Would they keep his case as quiet as possible or would he be turned into America's most hated man by the morning? He gritted his teeth. Hopefully it would be held in a closed court. At least only he would suffer shame, not his entire family with him. He pictured them individually. His parents would be broken whatever happened, but they deserved to live their lives in peace, without receiving hate male and threatening phone calls. His sisters were married and went by different names, all except for Maria; hopefully they'd escape being tainted altogether. Joey was an academic, currently researching quasars. He should be ok too, hopefully, as long as his teams' research grant wasn't cut. Marco and Bobby would suffer the most, both career naval officers. He chewed his lips hard. Neither needed any external pressure at the moment. Marco was in the process of a long-drawn out divorce, and could really do with all the support he could get. As for Bobby, Tony liked his latest girl-friend and had been thrilled when they got engaged last week. Would she even consider marrying the brother of a convicted traitor? He doubted it. They could both certainly forget about any further promotion.

And then of course there was Michelle. Her suffering had begun yesterday afternoon, when he was hauled away in handcuffs in front of all their colleagues. How had she managed to face them all? He imagined a hundred different endings to her workday, from her leaving straight after him to her staying behind to finish the several tasks that were crucial to closing a case. Hopefully he could talk to her tomorrow, if only for a minute, and find out how she had coped. His actions had definitely ruined her career, condemning her to a lonely life if she stayed with him. Tony's heart ached for her.

Several footsteps sounded down the corridor, heading purposefully towards the steel door. As far as he knew he hadn't disobeyed the slightest regulation since his 'release' from the handcuffs, so it was unlikely they were coming to punish him for anything. The footsteps continued to approach. Tony could only assume he was going to be taken somewhere. What should he do with the photo? Take it with him or hide it? He rubbed his face before wincing in pain. If they took him somewhere he might be searched and the picture discovered. It would be safer to hide it in the cell. Yet what if they were coming to move him to another cell? He had no belongings here, as far as they knew, he could be moved without causing any extra work. Some instinct made him remove the photo from his t-shirt and hide it inside the torn side of the blanket.

Seconds later four guards arrived outside his cell. Remembering the supervisor's instructions Tony rose and placed his hands behind his back.

'Prisoner, move to the back of the cell and face the wall.' Tony did as he was told, hating the feeling of cold brick against his face and his lack of ability to see anything. He heard his door being unlocked and two guards entering. 'The guards outside have loaded weapons, make any movement and they'll use it,' warned one of them.

'I'm not doing anything wrong,' Tony argued, beginning to feel worried. What did these guards want with him now?

'Prisoners are forbidden to speak unless asked to do so.' Tony fell silent, hearing the other guard remove something that clanked from his belt. He felt one of his arms being grabbed firmly.

'Don't cuff me, I'll go wherever you take me' he said, turning his head to see the handcuffs better.

'Prisoner, face the wall,' yelled all four guards simultaneously.

He turned his face back towards the brick. 'Please don't cuff my wrists, they're real bad. Cuff my legs if you must' he begged.

The swish of the night stick reached his ears milliseconds before a stinging blow landed on his shoulders, knocking the wind out of him. Whilst he was gasping the handcuffs were placed on his wrists. He wanted to scream in agony, but managed to keep silent. His feet were also cuffed and he was ordered to move to the door. He was forced to move slowly taking several half steps, nearly tripping as he had never been shackled like that before. His door was opened and he was ordered into the middle of the group. They set off along the remainder of the corridor that he hadn't yet seen and reached the distant door.

'Prisoner, halt' he was ordered and he paused while a card was moved through a slot and the steel door swung open. They all stepped through and the door was pulled shut, clanging loudly. This new corridor led nowhere, ending in brick walls just feet from the door they had stepped through. It only contained one grey door. Once again the same guard pulled an access card from his pocket and opened the door. Lights switched on automatically as the door opened, and the first two guards stepped inside, ordering Tony to follow.

He found himself inside a white tiled bathroom with three showers. 'Prisoner, face the wall,' he was ordered, and his face was pressed against the cold tiles as his cuffs were removed from both wrists and ankles. 'Strip.' They moved against the opposite wall while he removed his clothes, red with humiliation. Why couldn't they just have locked him in and given him five minutes, he wandered, in disgust. Throwing the last of his clothes in an untidy heap on the floor he moved to the shower they pointed out and turned the single tap. Icy water poured over him causing his heart to beat rapidly in shock. It had been years since his last cold shower. He bore it as long as he could before switching off the tap and stepping out.

'Prisoner, use the soap.' Tony moved to the last shower and pulled enough soap from a box on the wall to cover himself liberally. Reluctantly he returned to his shower turning on the icy water again. He rubbed the soap off, hating its cheap scent that wouldn't be washed away. As soon as the last of the soap was gone he turned the tap off again. 'Prisoner, did anyone order you to step out of the shower? Get back in' he was ordered. Once again icy water covered him, causing him to shiver.

'The hell with these bastards' Tony thought to himself, trying to stop his teeth from chattering. His whole situation was awful. Now he was being forced to freeze in an icy shower, naked, while two guards enjoyed his misery. He would be kept there as long as he provided them with entertainment. Well, he would not amuse them! Digging deep for some inner strength, he raised his head and remained under the icy water, breathing slowly, immobile.

Ten minutes later the guards grew tired of the game. He was ordered to leave the shower and pick up a worn blue towel that lay on a chair. Tony's body was totally numb from the cold; he barely felt the towel as he rubbed himself dry. He was handed a clean set of prison clothes. At least the icy water had removed his fever, he thought, trying not to concentrate on the guards watching him dress.

He remained silent as he was cuffed and returned to his cell. 'Strange' he reflected as he walked back, 'how quickly I can get used to walking like this.' He watched them unlock his cell and went inside gladly the moment they ordered him to. 'Gladly? His cell? What's happening to you, Almeida?' he wandered.

He undressed down to his underwear and curled up under the blanket, seeking its warmth. Carefully he searched for the photo. Yes, it was still where he had left it. Good thing he hadn't taken it with him.

Now that he was fed and washed he would hopefully be left alone until breakfast. Slowly his eyes closed and he was closer to sleep than to being awake. An awful clanging on the bars startled the sleep away. Tony knew better than to ignore it; he sat up and stared at the guard. The guard gazed at him impatiently and slammed his night stick against the bars again.

Tony cursed to himself and climbed out of bed, facing the door with his hands behind his back. The guard relaxed fractionally and replaced his stick. 'Prisoner, you are forbidden to sleep under the blanket. Your head and hands must be visible at all times.'

Was there no end to this harassment, Tony wandered, feeling himself getting angry again. 'Why?' he asked, sarcastically. 'You think I can conjure myself up some weapon to get out of here? You just watched me dress ten minutes ago.'

'Prisoner, you have been warned against speaking without permission. I am placing you on report for failure to observe that rule. If I don't see your head and hands at any time during the night, you'll be placed on report for that too.' He turned and left Tony standing in the middle of the cell, speechless.

Tony shook his head in disgust and returned to bed, too angry to return to sleep. When would this stop? He didn't expect much from his bail hearing tomorrow except a chance to see Michelle for a few minutes, so what other chance did he have of getting out of here? Very little, he thought, gloomily. He would almost certainly remain here until his trial, at which point he would be imprisoned for the rest of his life. Nina had been in his situation three years ago, and she had been pardoned. Ah, but Nina knew terrorists, worked with them, she was very dangerous and her help was needed. Nobody needed him, that was certain. The only terrorists he knew were all here, arrested by him. He shifted restlessly under the blanket. They'd be THRILLED to see him again!

'Focus, Almeida,' he ordered himself sternly. Jack had promised to do what he could. So far he had managed the impossible more times than he could remember. Maybe he could ask Palmer to drop all charges against him, even before he was tried. He sat up, feeling a little hope for the first time since his arrest. Could Jack get him off? He tried to stop hoping; knowing it was too dangerous, it would destroy him sooner than anything the warden could do to him. Why would Palmer show him mercy, anyway? Hadn't he personally told Tony he would face the consequences of his actions, regardless of the outcome of the capture of the virus? Palmer had been furious, and now no one remained except himself to take it out on. Gael would answer to someone higher than Palmer for his part in the operation, and Jack would get away free. A long sigh escaped him. Palmer's pardon was his only chance, and now that it had occurred to him it was hard to forget about it. Maybe the warden was also waiting to make certain which way the wind blew, maybe that's why he hadn't been punished more severely this afternoon.

Once again footsteps sounded down the corridor. 'Damn it' he thought, annoyed, 'they'll never let me sleep here.' All he really wanted to do was rest and dream about returning home to Michelle. He pulled his trousers and t-shirt on rapidly, lying back on top of the bed.

'Prisoner, rise' began the same irritating guard. He stood up and faced the door, hands behind his back. 'Face the wall!' So they were coming in again! There were the same minimum of four guards and the doctor. He blinked in confusion.

The guards ran their hands over him before moving to the side of the cell. 'You can turn round now, Almeida,' the doctor told him. Tony felt surprised he had been addressed by his name without the title "prisoner". 'Remove your clothes, I need to examine you.'

'I just dressed' he began, then fell silent and did as he was ordered. The doctor pointed to his chair. He settled in it and the doctor listened to his breathing, his heart, and checked his neck.

'Are you in any pain, Almeida?' he asked.

'Yeah,' Tony replied, holding out his wrists. 'These hurt a little.'

The doctor examined them gently, pursing his lips. 'I'll get you a little cream for them, but there's little I can do. It'll go down in a few days. How's it been?'

Tony gazed at him in silence, marveling at the question. Did he look ok? 'Well, let me see, I've spent three hours at least cuffed to the door, I've been woken up whenever I fell asleep, I've been insulted, I've received only half my dinner, I've been stood under an icy shower for 15 minutes and I was given 2 blows with a night stick. I think that's about all!'

The doctor shook his head gravely. 'This is a prison, Almeida, what do you expect? I'll give you painkillers for another two days, after which you should feel a lot better. Now I would transfer you over to medical, except you have been listed as "highly dangerous, to be confined to cell", so you'll have to stay here. Try and get some sleep.'

Tony snorted in disgust. He pulled on his clothes and watched them all leave his cell. He lay down on the bed, leaving his hands outside the covers and closed his eyes. Presumably the doctor would make them leave him alone for a while. 'Goodnight, Michelle, I'll see you tomorrow' he whispered.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

'Almeida' he answered the ringing phone, rubbing himself dry after his shower. He had returned from patrolling a largely uninhabited piece of desert an hour ago, and still hadn't managed to wash all the sand out of his hair. It had to have something weird in it, he decided, it stuck to his scalp and had to be literally scratched off. He gazed at his fingernails, not surprised to see them all caked with the same coarse sand.

'Lieutenant Almeida, you have a visitor. A civilian. He's waiting for you at the main gate.'

'What's his name?' Tony inquired, unaware of any acquaintance in the country.

'He won't say – he says it's a surprise. He's American.'

Intrigued, he dressed and hurried to the gate. A familiar grin met him. 'John' he cried, surprised, shaking his hand. 'What are you doing out here? I'd have thought you'd be watching the US Open now.'

John shook his head with a semi-exasperated expression. 'You can't get it straight, can you, Tony? It starts next week!'

Tony cleared him through security and got him a visitor's pass. He took John to the officers' mess hall and they settled at a table near an open window. 'What will you have?'

'Not orange juice,' John replied, with feeling. 'I've spent three days waiting for you to return, Tony.'

Tony grinned. 'A Lemonade, then!' He laughed at his friend's expression and ordered two whiskeys. 'You haven't answered my letters or emails for nearly two years, and now you just show up! How did you know I'd even be here?'

'I asked' John said, mysteriously. They sipped their drinks in silence, each taking in the other. 'You got promoted?'

'Yeah, I'm a first lieutenant now' Tony replied. 'They liked some stuff I did.' He regarded his old friend carefully. 'So what's new with you?'

'I moved back to L.A. two years ago now. I figured it was time to start something of my own. Tony, I opened a tennis school! It's already fully booked. Good business, ah?'

'It's great,' he answered, smiling. 'Any girl friend on the horizon?'

'I'm engaged, Tony. That's what I came to talk to you about. You deserve to be the first to know.'

Tony stared at him amazed. 'Congratulations, I guess, but don't you have dozens of other friends to celebrate with?'

John swirled the drink round his glass. 'Yep, but they don't really know her. She's got thick brown hair, brown eyes, and she can play tennis reasonably well. She's cool, she makes me laugh, and……… you know her.'

Tony searched his brains, unable to remember John going out with any brown haired girls. As far as he could remember his friend had preferred blondes, though none of his relationships had lasted long. He shook his head. 'I must have had too much sun, John. I don't remember any dark haired girl.'

Once again John swirled his drink around. 'We met again at the tennis courts, after I moved back. You really can't guess, can you?'

Tony shook his head, perplexed.

'Your sister, Anna,' John said nervously.

'What?' Tony gasped. 'She's just a kid.'

'She's twenty-one now, she's finished college, and we've been seeing each other for two years. Why do you think I settled back in L.A.? Tony, don't look at me like that, she likes me too.'

Tony got up. 'Let's go for a walk' he said, needing a little space to think. They left the mess hall and wandered outside. 'I know she always liked you, but – it wouldn't work out. Jane married one of our classmates and I don't think she's all that happy.' He paced back and forth briskly, whilst John leaned against the building and watched him.

'I know you hate him,' John finally spoke again, 'but I'm not Robert, Tony. We've always been friends. Have I ever insulted you? Have I ever got you into trouble?' Tony paused to stare at him in amazement. 'Well, ok, so I did, but you were also responsible for loads of my detentions. We're friends, right? Hell, I gave Anna her first tennis lessons when we were in school, remember?'

Tony nodded grimly. 'I do. John, I want her to stay the way she is now, carefree. I've seen Jane change, she doesn't really smile anymore.' He slammed his fist into the wall beside his friend. 'If that bastard ever makes her unhappy, I'll put a bullet through his brain!'

'You sure you should be telling me this?' John asked, grinning nervously. 'Coz I am going to marry Anna, and well, married couples do argue, occasionally.'

Tony turned to face him, letting out a deep breath. 'You won't change your mind, will you?' John shook his head. 'Oh well, I guess I should say "congratulations". You guys spoken to my parents yet?'

John shook his head. 'I wanted to tell you first. Tony, I'm heading home tomorrow. Wish me luck.'

He clasped John's shoulder. 'Come inside and let's celebrate.' They returned to the mess hall, and Tony ordered another round of drinks, as well as dinner. During their meal John entertained him with stories of tournaments all round the world.

'I ran into Dennis at Wimbledon, I mean, in London, during Wimbledon,' John told him. 'You know he inherited everything from his father. He's based there now.'

'Good,' Tony replied. 'That's about the right distance between us! You know who _I_ ran into last year at home?' He related his comments to their headmaster, causing his friend to choke on his dinner. It felt good to laugh after his last few missions. He felt sad later watching John leave.

Too restless to sleep he decided to call Anna to discuss John's visit. Rita answered, delighted to hear from him. 'Hi, Tony, congratulate me quickly!'

He laughed. 'Why, what have you done?'

'I've been accepted into the Masters program. I've even got enough saved up from working in Spain last year to pay for half of it.'

'Hey, that's great,' he said, genuinely pleased to hear of her success. 'Who'll pay for the other half?' She fell silent. 'Papa will, I suppose,' he told her.

'Well, I don't think he can right now. He's still paying for Joey and Maria's schools. And there's really nothing left after he put Bobby through school. I'll be ok, I'll think of something by then.'

'Didn't Joey win a scholarship?' Tony asked, puzzled. 'He gets A's for everything, always did. How much better can anyone do?'

'I thought you knew,' Rita replied. Tony was reminded yet again of just how far he was from his family, how removed from their everyday lives. 'The headmaster wouldn't give another scholarship to our family. Mom and Papa are paying.'

Tony scratched the side of his face, running figures through his head. 'Listen, Rita, I'll pay the second half.' Rita protested vehemently, eventually agreeing to repay every cent. 'You're the best, Tony!'

He laughed, enjoying her pleasure. 'Absolutely,' he agreed. 'How is everyone else?'

'Oh, I got a secret, too,' Rita continued. 'Guess who's pregnant? Janey! We've been shopping for baby outfits yesterday. Mom's thrilled.'

'Hey, that's great,' Tony exclaimed. 'It's been too long without a baby. Does she know what it will be yet?'

'Not yet,' Rita told him. 'But it better be a girl, coz I saw this most gorgeous pink outfit, and I bought it!' Tony laughed heartily. 'Maria's already bought her a doll.'

'Well, if not for this baby, then for the next,' Tony said cheerfully. He longed to see them all again. 'How are the boys?'

Presently he hung up, returning to his room. He had to get another trip home, and soon! The next morning, after handing in a report, he went shopping, to the same modern mall he'd taken his mother to. He selected several gifts for the baby, placing them in his suitcase. He was going to be an uncle!

Anderson summoned him into his office for his next mission briefing the following afternoon. Tony was given another desert patrol, a boring several days but usually peaceful enough. He was relieved to be spared yet another covert mission.

It took the entire day to drive there. In the evening they pitched their tents in the shelter of a large sand dune. Dinner was prepared and warmed on a gas cooker. Tony settled into his tent after he'd assigned someone to clean up, and read a few chapters of a novel his mother had left. He could hear his men playing ball outside. After while he became more absorbed in his novel, and when he next went outside the sight paused him in his tracks. His men had climbed the top of the sand dune and were taking it in turns to slide down on a body board! Judging by the amount of laughter, it was an incredible ride. Tony momentarily regretted being their C.O. – he would have enjoyed trying it himself. He assigned a few of them to sentry duty and returned to his tent, gazing again at the stars through the mosquito netting. The night was calm and still, refreshingly cool after the heat of the day. He really didn't feel tired at all. A walk might use up some of his remaining energy, he reflected.

He pulled his boots on and left the tent, telling the sentry he was going for a short walk. Peters stared at him in amazement. 'Don't worry, I won't get lost,' Tony told him, amused, and set off, heading towards the largest sand dune in the area. It might be interesting to see how large it was up close, he reflected, and anyway, there was no better landmark anywhere in sight. He walked into the breeze, senses fully alert, rifle in his belt. His mind replayed the phone call with Rita, and John's visit. Once Anna got married the house would really start getting quiet. He sighed softly. Who would remain by the time he left the army? Only Joey and Maria, he supposed.

Without being aware of it, he had arrived at the sand dune. It was about twice as high as the surrounding ones, towering far above him. There would be an incredible view from the top. Was it worth the trouble of such a climb? Was he tired yet? No, he wasn't, so he would attempt it. He set off along the side facing the tents, his boots digging into the sand as he climbed. Occasionally the breeze lifted bits of loose surface sand he had disturbed and swirled it about him. Hopefully he wouldn't start a landslide.

Hot and sweaty, he reached the top, sinking down to get his breath back. Several minutes later he raised his head, enjoying the view. Sand stretched as far as he could see in any direction, shining in the moonlight. The road they had arrived on snaked between some dunes to his right. In the distance was his own tent, obscured by shadow. Peters would be wandering what had happened to him by now. Tony knew he should start heading back, but the climb had tired him, he really needed a few more quiet minutes. He imagined describing the scene in his next letter home.

Distant lights caught his eyes, winding along the road. Was it a car or a truck, he wandered, and where could it be heading this late? He strained his eyes, cursing himself for having left his binoculars behind. Definitely a military transport of their own, he decided, watching it speed along the road. A flash distracted him. Seconds later the vehicle exploded, burning in the darkness. Flames lit the sky. Shadows moved inside them. Tony leapt to his feet, racing down the opposite side of the dune, towards the vehicle. He slipped, tumbling down several yards before he could pause long enough to get to his feet.

The military transport burned fiercely as he approached it at a run. A few soldiers lay outside the flames, severely burned, beside a few blown up bodies. Tony fought down his nausea and attempted to reach the front of the vehicle, to get to the radio. His efforts were in vain, the radio was a charred ruin. Faint screams reached his ears, through the crackling fire. A shudder rushed through him. Someone was trapped inside the back, burning. Tony scooped sand inside the engine, hoping to prevent any further explosions, then removed his jacket and pushed his way through the flames. A body lay under a seat, a bit of roof on its chest. Its arm moved. He pushed off the wreckage, hauling the person out behind him. He rolled in the sand to put out the fires on his own uniform before turning his attention to the injured man beside him.

'Where did you put your first aid kit?' he questioned urgently, seeing the agony of the survivors around him.

The man blinked several times. Tony poured a little of his water onto his face, hoping to revive him long enough to get a coherent answer. 'Come on, where's your first aid kit?' he demanded.

'In the cab, under the driver's seat,' choked the man. Tony nodded and hurried back to the vehicle, poking through the scorched twisted ruins for the box. It should have survived the blast, he thought. Hearing the moans from outside forced him to hurry. Eventually his hand closed upon what felt like a box shape, trapped beneath twisted metal. Tony pulled with all his strength, lifting the seat enough to dislodge the box. He jumped to the ground, bending down to his first patient. He forced the kit open, searching for burn cream or spray. He sprayed the man's injuries, wrapping the wound with gauze, before heading to the next man. 'Careful with the gauze, Almeida,' he told himself, 'there's not as much as you need.' Seeing "his" patients' agony, he located the morphine, read the instructions by the fire, and filled the syringe, breaking open a packet of needles.

Tony's hands shook as he bent towards the man he had pulled from the fire. 'Go on, give me a shot,' the man ordered him. Still he hesitated, not wishing to cause unnecessary pain. 'On the double, lieutenant,' ordered the man. Tony administered the morphine, changed the needle, and headed to the other men.

'Lieutenant, it is imperative that you locate our attackers,' ordered the injured captain. 'We've been tracking them for days.'

'Well sir, it looks like they're heading this way,' Tony told him, seeing lights in the distance. 'They're coming to finish you off. I'll take them out, before they get here.' The injured men were too weak to be moved, he would have to eliminate their attackers before they could arrive to complete their job. He hurried along the road, sheltering behind a knee high bush. Carefully he knelt on the ground, sighting his primary target, the driver, and pulled the trigger. Seconds later he took out the man beside him, shooting through glass, before firing a volley of shots at the back of the vehicle. The vehicle ran off the road, overturning. Tony approached it cautiously, crawling forward. He had no idea how many men had sat in the back, or what kind of weapons they had. Certainly they were equipped with grenades. A shot fired from the car. Instantly he fired a salvo of shots into that exact location, and surrounding areas. All fell silent. He crept up to the door, making certain all inside were dead.

'I got them, sir' he reported to the injured captain, checking the men. 'Sir, I'm going to need to find my own men and radio base to send a chopper for you. I'll be back within the hour. Some of your weapons are damaged; I got you theirs.' He handed over the weapons he had stripped from the dead hostiles.

The captain nodded his permission, and Tony sped away along the road. 'Who were these soldiers?' he wandered. 'What were they doing over the border? Why hadn't he been notified of their presence? Another undercover operation,' he concluded.

Fortunately he saw Koskinen driving their armored personnel carrier before he had been gone more than ten minutes. Tony waved him down, climbing inside. He briefed the sergeant on what had taken place; enjoying the looks of admiration his men cast him. He radioed base, asking for an evacuation of the injured, giving the exact location.

'Sir, if you'd let me see your hands,' Koskinen told him, once they had arrived. Tony stared at his own injuries which were only now beginning to sting – the slight burns he had received and the cuts from fumbling in the cab's wreckage. He held them out, watching Koskinen spray a little burn cream on them and clean up a cut. 'I'd let the medics take a look at them,' the sergeant told him.

The helicopter landed, whipping up an entire cloud of sand, covering the injured. The door was thrown open and a colonel leapt out, followed by several medics. 'Where's the captain?' he demanded of Tony. Tony led him towards the captain and withdrew, allowing them to debrief. He watched the medics work on the soldiers instead. Soon they were laid on stretchers and loaded into the helicopter. The officers still spoke in urgent whispers, so he felt less guilty showing his own small injuries to a medic.

He was given a shot for the pain; had his cut cleaned out properly, more cream applied, and gauze wrapped securely round them. 'Avoid water,' the medic told him. 'Keep them clean – call us if the pain gets worse. Otherwise you should be able to remain here.'

'I _must_ remain here,' Tony said, firmly. 'I won't abandon my men!'

'Now, one last thing, I'll just give you a tetanus booster to be safe, and you're done,' the medic told him, opening up his box. Tony shook his head firmly, insisting he was well up with ALL his shots, but the medic told him if he refused he would have to return to base right away, and have one there. He gave up, turning away to avoid watching the needle.

* * *

Back at the base Tony was summoned to see the general. He dressed as neatly as he could and waited outside with a rapid heartbeat. Had the general been impressed or annoyed by his rescue? Should he have left the injured and hunted down their attackers sooner? Fortunately the general proved to be impressed. Tony was given a citation for bravery, and told he would receive a medal within the next few weeks, at a short ceremony. He left the office with a huge grin he was unable to hide.

He never did receive the medal, however, as his actions next week were not met with the same approval. Tony sighed, regretting not having received the medal. It would have been something to show off to his family. Fortunately he had forced himself to wait till he received it before he let them know about it, otherwise Marco would feel guilty, and the kidnapping wasn't his fault.

Marco and Bobby were both currently serving in the Gulf. He prayed for their safety, remembering Marco's condition when he finally located him.

He turned over in bed, sickened by the memory that emerged from the furthest recess of his mind. Now he would be unable to sleep, that was certain!


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

Marco called him from the USS Storm early in the morning, knowing he would still be in bed. Tony answered the phone trying to sound awake, doubting whether he would fool the listener. 'Almeida'.

'Hey Tony,' his brother greeted, cheerfully. 'What are you up to? I didn't wake you, did I?'

'No way!' Tony replied, feeling himself waking up. 'I mean, it's what,' he pulled his watch towards him '05.13. Who'd be asleep at this hour?'

Marco laughed heartily. 'We just docked. Our ship will be spending a little time in Saudi Arabia. You couldn't grab a couple of days leave and come visit, could you?'

'I'll ask' Tony said, sitting up. He chatted to his brother another twenty minutes before Marco said he had no more money left on his phone card.

Captain Anderson considered his request, which Tony made first thing during breakfast. 'I already had you assigned to more desert patrol, Almeida. Let me see if I can change a few schedules around. Possibly Macintyre could fill in for you but he needs at least three days back here before he could go.'

Tony set off to find Mac, trying his office first, finding him working on his computer. He walked in and settled on the desk. 'Hi Mac, how about you return me the favor you owe?'

'Oh oh, sounds like trouble,' Macintyre told him. 'What do you need?'

Tony explained that he would need someone to take over his exercises in the desert, close to the Yemeni border. Mac sighed heavily. 'Please, Mac. I'll go for three days, but it would be great if you could take over after that. I haven't seen my brother for over a year now.' Mac nodded reluctantly.

Tony prepared his troops for further exercises, thrilled at the thought of seeing his brother that soon. Anderson gave him an extra jeep that he could use to drive over to the port for his visit. He called Marco's ship and left him a message, saying he'd be there in four days. Knowing what desert exercises were like he made full use of the pool during the afternoon, going as far as ordering Koskinen and his men to use their pool too. 'Not the safest time to be swimming, under the full sun,' he thought, as he enjoyed the pool almost totally by himself, 'but then, it'll be the last water I'll see outside of a bottle for the next four days.' After his swim he played pool with a few off duty officers, resisting the urge to slam his cue into the table as he was beaten for the ninth time in a row. He really needed to work on his game, that was obvious! Not right now, however. 'Another game?' questioned the same lieutenant who'd beaten him easily the preceding six times. Tony shook his head, ashamed of his immature desire to place his fist between the smirking eyes.

Back in his office he wrote a few emails to his family, and began a handwritten letter to his grandfather, who disliked printed letters. A knock distracted him. 'Come in' he called, surprised to see Peters, one of his more capable snipers. 'What can I do for you, Peters?' he asked, laying his pen on his letter.

'Sir, my wife is having our baby next week, and she'd really like me to be there. I know it's not usual to get leave, or anything, but the sergeant said I could ask anyway.' He gazed pleadingly at Tony.

Tony regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. 'Leave it with me, Peters, I'll do what I can' he said. After he left he called Anderson, requesting the leave, arguing Peters would continue to do an excellent job if he was able to go home for a while. Finally Anderson gave in, too busy to argue further, granting a week. Tony upgraded that to twelve days, entered it in the computer and prepared the leave papers.

After he finished his letter he handed it in to the base post office and went in search of Koskinen. To his surprise the barracks was empty. Surely they hadn't gone running in this heat? He found them in the main pool area, splashing around. He grinned, and walked over to the edge, watching them until one noticed him. 'At ease' he said before they could salute. 'Peters, I got your leave – twelve days! Have fun.'

He checked the list of provisions they would take with them, and then wandered over to the tennis court to find Mac. 'Hi, Almeida, want a game?' Mac called, as his previous partner walked off court. 'Come on, let's hit a few balls!'

Tony returned with his raquet. 'Let me warn you, Mac, I just lost nine games of pool, so I'm _not exactly_ in a mood to lose anything again right now!'

Macintyre laughed heartily. 'Well, you better concentrate, then. Don't tell me you're _still_ playing with that old raquet, Almeida! Why won't you get yourself a new one?'

'Nothing wrong with this one,' Tony replied. As they played the lights came on around them. Macintyre played well, winning the first set 6-3. Tony flung the ball he was holding hard into the ground in a fit of temper, earning a laugh from his friend.

'Almeida, you're supposed to smash your racquet, not the balls,' he said. 'Hey, maybe you should, you could get a new one then.'

'No,' Tony replied, grinning. 'This one's from a friend.'

He woke up early the following morning, eating hurriedly, and returning to his room to collect his bag in the dim light of dawn. He threw it into the boot of the jeep, leaving two bottles of water on the passenger seat for himself. Now to insert his favorite C.D. for the five hour drive and he was set. He checked his men were prepared, and watched the provisions being loaded.

They set off in a convoy, his jeep leading the way. First he drove carefully winding his way through the chaotic traffic, but once past the town he allowed himself to drive faster, enjoying the empty road. All too soon they arrived at the spot they would set their tents in, and they ate from cold ration packs, in the shade of the armored personnel carrier. Directly after lunch they pitched their tents, and Tony opened his laptop, searching for the latest news from the gulf. He entered his password and waited, expecting the usual unimportant items.

The story he saw shocked him into silence. Ten U.S. sailors, one of them a lieutenant, were reported missing, all from the battleship USS Storm. He choked back a cry of horror, reading the list of names. Marco's topped the list. They had been seen on leave, and had failed to return. No further information was supplied. Tony radioed his base, attempting to find out more news, but none was forthcoming. All Anderson could tell him was that a terrorist group had probably kidnapped them and would soon make its demands. Until such time, the navy was attempting to track them, but had no leads.

Tony slammed his fist into his laptop, cursing in Spanish. Where was his brother? Which group held him? What were their demands? Surely they knew the US didn't negotiate with terrorists. What on earth would his mother think, once they told her? There would be no favorable outcome to this mess, there would only be dead sailors.

He examined his laptop, hoping he hadn't damaged it. He needed to track them somehow. Tony called Anderson again, asking whether they could access any satellite pictures to track the missing men. Anderson told him the navy was dealing with the case, and he had no further information, but he would attempt to find out. Tony sat in the shade in silence, wanting only to be left alone. For once Koskinen supervised the setting up of camp by himself.

Further news appeared on his laptop later in the afternoon. The terrorists holding the group of US sailors demanded the US leave Saudi Arabia immediately. Failure to leave within twenty-four hours would lead to the execution of a sailor every hour, on the hour. Tony paced back and forth, sickened. Presently he called Anderson again, begging to know whether the navy had any leads on their whereabouts.

Anderson knew little more, with the exception that the navy did indeed have a satellite picture of the group being removed. Tony settled back next to the jeep, in utter silence. He didn't hear Koskinen walking up to him.

'Sir, we're ready to prepare dinner.' Tony nodded and resumed staring at the ground. 'Sir, if you'd tell me what's wrong, I could help you,' Koskinen said, quietly.

Tony shook his head to clear it. 'There's nothing you could do. Ten of our sailors were kidnapped by some nuts and they're going to start being executed by tomorrow afternoon, and the navy won't tell us where they're being held.'

'The navy knows, Sir?' Koskinen inquired.

'Yeah' Tony replied, 'at least they know which way they were headed. They have them on satellite, but they're not sharing it.'

Koskinen nodded and left him alone, returning moments later, requesting use of the radio. Tony nodded in silence, unable to find the energy to query this unusual request. Presently Koskinen returned, with Ray.

'Sir, Ray knows a guy in the navy; he needs to know where to send the satellite feeds.' Tony stared in astonishment before leaping to his feet.

'You know someone who has access to this kind of info?' he questioned Ray, eagerly.

'Yes sir, and he owes me a few favors so tell him where to send the feeds.' Tony took the radio and gave his email address. Minutes later they were pouring over the feeds, comparing them to a map.

'That location is over the border,' Tony said finally, puzzled. 'Somewhere just inside Yemen.'

Koskinen nodded, grimly. 'Looks like that's the village, sir, can't be more than two or three hours drive from here.'

Tony got up. He called the base, attempting to speak to Anderson, but he was off site and couldn't be contacted. Finally he sent the general an email telling him they had an idea of the location of the sailors and he would go and reconnoiter.

'Sir, if I may,' Koskinen began. 'It is unlikely the general would grant permission as this is a navy matter. I take it you're going to attempt a rescue.' Tony nodded. 'Then it would be advisable to switch off the radio now, so you can always plead you couldn't receive any orders.'

Tony grinned. 'Good idea. Do it, would you.' He placed the map into the jeep. Koskinen appeared behind him.

'Sir, the radio is out. Now, if you'll just give us five minutes, we'll be ready.'

Tony stopped. 'Koskinen, I'm going alone. It's an unauthorized mission, and technically I'll be abandoning my post, both of which are taken pretty seriously. I can't ask anyone to come with me.'

'But Sir, you're risking your career…' Koskinen began.

'It's my brother, I must go,' Tony interrupted forcefully. 'You don't have any reason to risk your careers.'

'Sir' Koskinen interrupted, as he climbed into the jeep. 'With all due respect, I disagree. How long have we known each other? At least eighteen months, if not more. How many leaves have you cancelled during that time? How many men did you fine?' He paused while Tony shook his head. 'You didn't, Sir. None of us can remember anyone as good to us as you. If you're going into a hostile situation, we're coming to back you up!' Tony stared at him silently. 'You'd get yourself killed alone this time.'

He paused to consider the sergeant's words. What he said made sense. He had no idea how many hostiles were in or around the building, but technically he had to assume the entire village was unfriendly. He stood a much greater chance of success with his men positioned round the village, ready to move on his orders. Marco stood a greater chance of remaining alive. He could always insist he had ordered his men in, without telling them anything about the mission. No one would question that.

'Okay, Koskinen, get them ready. Thanks' he said, quietly.

Koskinen nodded and left, yelling about flak jackets and a hostage situation. He watched his men don their combat gear, load their rifles and climb into the armored personnel carrier eagerly. He followed, checking the region for movement on the radar. It was clear as far as the border and beyond.

They drove down the road until they arrived at a dirt track that led across the desert to an unmanned border crossing. The last lot of hostiles had arrived from that direction. They crossed the border, unaware of the exact moment they left Saudi Arabia. Koskinen watched the radar while one of his men took over driving. Tony read his last email, received before they had packed up. The general categorically refused to give him permission to attempt any kind of rescue, ordering him to remain at his post. Well, he had expected that.

The drive was slower on the dirt tracks, the atmosphere tense. They arrived outside the village in darkness. Tony handed out radios to all his men, leaving a marine in charge of their transport. They headed towards the village, skirting it carefully. The house the men had been taken into at gunpoint proved to be located in the centre of the village. He groaned silently. Escape would prove difficult. Tony positioned a couple of his snipers outside the village overlooking the house, a couple on both sides of the road into and out of the village, and left two on the street. He led the last three silently closer to the house. Night vision showed him two hostiles guarding the street in front of the house. He signaled to Ray to take one out, and picked the man further away for himself. 'On my mark,' he whispered. 'Fire.' Two shots embedded themselves simultaneously and silently inside the sentries. Tony waited, not daring to move, to see if anyone had heard the shots despite the silencers, but the village remained undisturbed. He beckoned to the three marines who followed him towards the house.

He radioed his men telling them the sentries had been removed, and he was now heading inside the house. They wished him good luck. He switched the radio off and crept up to the door, his men in single file behind him. Carefully he turned the handle, delighted to find it had been left unlocked for the sentries. He stepped into a room, moving aside immediately to allow his men to enter. The light was switched on inside the room – they all removed their night vision, and crept forward. Tony expected the hostages to be held downstairs in some cellar, so he sent two men upstairs and slipped into a corridor, followed by Ray. Three men sat at a table, they took them out within seconds, still using silencers. One man headed towards the staircase –Tony blew his brains out before he got there. The next room contained one man who managed to let out a yell before being shot.

Tony grabbed his radio and called the two upstairs, warning of possible trouble. They had killed five men sleeping upstairs and headed back down rapidly. Two men heavily armed rushed from a room, firing. Tony shot them both, checking his men, relieved that none had been hit. 'Now where could the cellar be?' he wandered in desperation. He _had_ to find Marco.

Movement in a room they hadn't checked so far sent him running silently to stand just opposite the doorway, shooting a man who appeared from a staircase definitely leading downwards. He led his men into the room, checking no one else remained near the staircase before heading down. The door at the bottom was locked. Not wishing to waste time searching the bodies for a key, Tony yelled a warning to get down before shooting through the lock.

Eight beaten up sailors met his eyes, bound hand and foot. He searched the room, unable to find any hidden corner. 'Where's the lieutenant?' he demanded, forcing his voice to remain calm.

They told him they had no idea. The lieutenant was beaten unconscious shortly after they arrived, after attempting to aid Jones, who was beheaded in front of a video camera. The world spun around Tony. He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to focus. His men untied the sailors. 'Take them back to the carrier and treat their injuries,' Tony ordered one of his men, calling his group on the radio to update them of the situation. He followed his men up the staircase outside the cellar, wandering what he could do next. He would search every house in the village if he had to, to get Marco back!

Ray laid a hand on his arm suddenly, and they froze, listening. A child's crying reached their ears, quickly silenced. Tony moved rapidly, hauling open a pantry door and dragging out a toddler and its mother. The child resumed its screaming, the woman screeched louder. Tony removed his rifle, holding it against the baby's head. The woman fell silent, gazing at him in pure terror. He almost felt sorry for her, almost, but not quite. 'Where is the other American?' he demanded. 'One more American.' He held up one finger. The woman shook her head. Tony cursed in Spanish and drew the bolt on his rifle. The woman screamed again, pointing outside. 'Follow her,' Tony ordered his men, and they went outside to a closed in courtyard, the child still in his arms.

She led them to a well, pointing to the cover, whispering as Ray placed his fingers across his lips. 'Open it,' Tony ordered, and watched Ray move the cover. 'Watch them.' He handed the child to Evans, the third marine who remained with him, and slipped on his night vision, peering into the darkness. A rope dangled into the dried up well, and someone was definitely tied to it by their hands. He pulled as hard as he could and the rope began moving. It seemed to take forever to pull Marco out.

Tony laid him on the floor, examining him gently. Mercifully he was unconscious; his breathing so shallow Tony had to place his ear above his mouth to feel it. His skin was cold and clammy. 'Take them inside the house and secure them in the cellar' he ordered Ray, not trusting himself to spare the woman a moment longer. Ray led them away. He radioed his men to let them know he would start moving back to the carrier, they should head back too. Carefully he lifted Marco, adjusting his weight and straightening with difficulty. 'Let's go,' he ordered.

The walk back took far longer this way. Tony was exhausted by the time he entered the carrier, laying his brother down in a seat. Koskinen began to drive, moving as fast as the road allowed them. Tony gently stripped Marco's clothes off, feeling for injuries. He had a few purple patches over his ribs, most likely several broken bones there. Marco's pallor worried him; he hoped there were no internal organs damaged.

'Will he be okay, Sir?' asked one of the sailors, hesitantly. 'He's a nice guy.'

'I know,' Tony whispered back, struggling to contain his tears.

He radioed base an hour later, requesting a chopper with a medic on board to transport the injured sailors. His call was forwarded to the furious general, who ordered Tony to fly back with the chopper to answer questions.

'Remember, guys, I ordered you in, you didn't know anything at all about this mission,' Tony reminded them, as they all stood outside the vehicle. 'Thanks for your help.'

'Good luck, Sir,' they all told him, offering him eye contact, showing they were with him. Koskinen clasped him on the shoulder. 'He'll be okay, sir,' he said, nodding at Marco. 'Just be careful now. We'll all back you up.'

Tony nodded. 'Koskinen, in case I don't get to see you again, it was great working with you. Before I met you, the very word "sergeant" made my flesh crawl. You changed that. Good luck.' He clasped the sergeant's hand, shaking it.

The helicopter landed, the wounded were helped inside. Macintyre appeared, to take over the rest of the mission. He gazed at Tony, shaking his head. 'See you back at the base, Almeida,' he said, as Tony climbed into the chopper.

At the base Tony watched Marco being placed on a stretcher and wheeled into the hospital. He followed him in, watching the doctor take X-Rays and order the nurses to scrub for surgery.

'Lieutenant Almeida, the General wants to see you right away,' a soldier told him, saluting nervously. Reluctantly Tony followed.

He expected the general to be displeased, but he hadn't expected the fury that greeted him. 'Almeida, do you realize what you've done?' began the general. 'You've undertaken an unauthorized mission, you've abandoned your post, you crossed the border into another country, one we might have gained a little sympathy from had the sailors been killed, but which advantage we've lost thanks to you! You're under arrest!'

Red with humiliation, Tony was marched through the base to the brig, where a sergeant entered his name and searched him, before locking him in a cell. He sank onto the floor in despair, praying Marco would survive his surgery, and that he would be released. Captain Anderson arrived to visit him the following morning, insisting the sergeant let him inside Tony's cell.

'Sir,' Tony saluted, wandering whether Anderson would tell him he was no longer a marine.

'Almeida, sit down,' Anderson ordered. He sighed heavily, gazing at Tony. 'I guess I should tell you about your brother first. He's going to make it. Eight broken ribs, one punctured lung that's been re-inflated, he's lost a lot of blood, but you saved his life. Hell, you saved all their lives! General Petersen has been thanked personally by the admiral for his assistance in retrieving the sailors. He can't very well prosecute us now.'

'Us?' questioned Tony, puzzled.

'Oh, didn't I tell you? I told the general I authorized your mission before the radio went dead. He's had a bit to say to me,' Anderson paused and glanced wearily round the cell, 'but by then he'd accepted the admiral's thanks, so he was a little calmer. So I guess you won't get me as a neighbor! He'll let you out too, though I guess he might keep you here another day or so.' He left. Tony was forced to spend another two days in the cell before being summoned back to the general. This time the general was milder, fining Tony, confining him to the base unless he was out on a mission, and removing his citation for bravery.

Tears stung his eyes as he left the office, quickly dispelled when he visited Marco in the hospital.

'Hey, how are you doing?' he asked quietly, seeing a very pale Marco resting in bed.

'Tony!' Marco attempted to sit up, lying back with a groan. 'I've been waiting for you.' He held out an arm. Tony crossed the room in a stride and clasped his hand.

'You had me worried back there,' he admitted.

'Did you see what those guys done? We were unarmed; they just took my men at gunpoint. I saw something going on, I went to check, and they took me too. They cut Jones's head off! I tried to stop them.' He shuddered.

'Hey, you done your best,' Tony assured him.

'Yeah, well, what am I supposed to tell his parents? It won't make any difference to them, what I tried.'

'Sure it will,' Tony encouraged him. 'It will show someone cared. Tell them he was a nice guy, something about him.'

'He just came. I don't know what he's like.' Marco turned to face the wall. Tony stared at him, worried. 'How many did you take out?'

He counted aloud. 'There were two on the street, and ten inside. We left a woman and a little kid alive.' He fell silent, ashamed of threatening her.

Marco gave a strangled cry, sitting up and grasping Tony's arm for support. 'You let her live? My God, Tony, she was there! She filmed the beheading, and she didn't even blink!' They stared at each in silence. 'My men have all returned to the ship, it's only me here now. I hoped you'd come yesterday.'

Tony chewed his lip. 'Look, I was de-briefing. I came as soon as I could.'

'For two days?'

'Yeah, well, it wasn't exactly an authorized mission, you know.'

Marco's expression changed. 'Tony, don't tell me…'

'It's okay now,' he interrupted. Marco nodded silently.

* * *

Anderson and his men returned home to the States for a short break, cramped together on a ship. Once the journey began Anderson summoned Tony to a tiny office set aside for returning Marine officers. 'Almeida, General Petersen reassigned us. We won't be returning to the Gulf.'

'But Sir, we know the area well by now. We know what to watch for,' Tony began. 'Where will we be deployed next?'

Anderson shook his head. 'I haven't been notified yet. Something tells me it won't be a holiday spot. Anyway, enjoy the trip and the leave home, you deserve it!'

Tony paced restlessly, longing to breathe fresh air. He had been held in the same cell for around 24 hours now without having been moved any further than the shower. If they let him out right now he would go for a long walk, get some sea air. He shut his eyes, picturing the wind blowing round the ship they were sent home from the Gulf in. Well, right now he would settle for just a little land breeze too, he reflected. Anything other than the stale air tainted with disinfectant that permeated the corridor.

Tomorrow they would take him to his bail hearing –he would get to breath a little fresh air then. And there they would refuse to release him, and he would be returned to this cell for the next several months, awaiting his trial. He shook his head, rebelling against the thought. There was _no way_ he could cope with being locked in here for several months! His breath caught in his throat. He would suffocate in here!

'Focus, Almeida' he muttered to himself, sternly. 'You just take it one day at a time. You can do that.'


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

The sun enhanced the blue of the sea, already the deepest shade of blue he'd ever seen. Tony leaned over the rail, spellbound. He longed for a swim, but knew that was out of the question. Officers couldn't just ignore orders; he had to set an example for his men, who probably felt the same way as he did. And today was not a day to annoy a superior. The ship's crew was all irritated, being forced to anchor whilst their engineers carried out repairs. A lovelier spot to break down would have been hard to pick, Tony decided. Now if only he could wrangle some shore leave for his men… He set off to the cramped quarters assigned the marine officers returning home, to speak to Anderson.

Anderson was not unsympathetic, but insisted the matter rested entirely in the hands of the ship's captain. 'I wouldn't bother him right now, Almeida,' he added. 'Try to get your men to play a little basketball instead.'

Tony left, disappointed. He found Koskinen and watched his men, staring at the island in the distance. He_ really_ wanted to explore it. He fetched his binoculars and tried to make out the buildings in the distance.

'Almeida' he heard his name being called. Anderson stepped through an open hatch. 'Repairs will take all day. The Captain has spoken to the port officials, and we're being granted a couple of hours leave. We're entering Malta as visiting sailors, subject to their laws. I need hardly remind you of the need for everyone to maintain perfect discipline. Leave will extend until 23.00, by which time ALL of you will return to the port in Valletta and wait for transport back here. Now brief your men.'

Tony failed to keep the grin off his face. 'Thank you, sir. They really deserve a short break.'

'You do too, Almeida,' Anderson told him. 'Have fun.'

He told his men of the permitted trip and went to find Mac, hoping to persuade him to accompany him. Mac, however, was suffering from the same stomach flu he had caught at the beginning of their deployment and was in no condition to go anywhere. Tony resigned himself to exploring the island alone.

'Have fun, guys, and behave,' he reminded his men, watching as they wandered off. He studied the map he'd picked up in the port. What should he see first? He would have to take some souvenir home, better find one first, he decided. Valletta had plenty of souvenir shops, all filled with tourists. He fought his way through them all and chose some embroidery and a silver horse and carriage similar to the ones he'd seen taking tourists for rides. He wandered down a street consisting entirely of steps, through a square full of green buses, past a fountain and out through some enormous arches, the gates to the city. Under the gates he bought a loaf of fresh baked bread, which he munched. Crowds wandered past him, laughing and talking. Tony found himself reveling in the peace of the place, soaking in the ringing of dozens of church bells. Amazingly he didn't feel naked without his firearm, sensing no hostility from anyone. Now to see the rest of the island. He found a car hire and soon drove off, determined to drive round the island and see all the beaches. Then he would head inland, checking out some ancient ruins, before returning to the port.

'Concentrate,' he muttered to himself, finding driving on the left disconcerting. Msida Roundabout proved his greatest obstacle along the entire route. Cars whizzed past, hooting impatiently. After a couple of tentative attempts to enter the roundabout himself he pulled out, hooting at a few cars that refused to give way to him. Now what had the tourist map said? Sliema was a popular tourist spot, he would stop there.

Tony parked the car in a quiet side street and crossed the road to the sea, walking downhill past a playground. A couple of children made a train on the slide, squealing as they landed on top of each other. Two mothers talked on a nearby green bench. One wore her hair in a pony-tail; the other had short hair combed to the side. Tony shook his head to clear it. Damn, he had been in Arabia too long. He just couldn't resist admiring every woman he saw, every summer dress, every pair of shorts. He grinned to himself, wandering down the path to the sea.

Dark rocks met the deep blue sea, warm to the touch, but not unpleasantly so. Tony moved a little to the right, away from a few noisy tourists, and settled on a smoother piece of rock, gazing at the sea right across to the other side of the bay, watching cars race along, until the bay turned into the open sea, and the land curved away. He could have stared at that view all day, he decided, if he had a couple of weeks to spend here. He envied the tourists their time.

Out of the corner of his eye he noted an object hurtling towards him. Instinctively he caught it, finding himself holding a wet ball. He got up, walking towards a group of young men playing water polo in the deeper water, throwing the ball back into the middle of the group.

'Hey, that was a great catch. Do you play water polo?' asked one of the group.

Tony grinned and shook his head. 'Never tried it.'

They all stared at him. 'You're American?'

'Yeah,' he agreed.

'Are you from that battleship?'

'Yeah,' he agreed again.

'You're by yourself?'

'My friend's sick' he answered, amused by their curiosity.

They spoke a few words between themselves in Maltese. He turned to go. 'Hey, do you want to play a little water polo? We're one man short.'

Tony paused to consider the invitation. He had plenty of time to explore the rest of the island, and the sea looked inviting. 'Sure' he agreed, removing his jeans and t-shirt, glad he had dressed in bathers. Aware of them watching, he dived head first into the sea, coming up in a perfect arc.

'You're with us,' the man who had first spoken to him said. 'I'm Jo Galea, and this team is originally all from Gozo, though we work in Malta now. Gozo's the smaller island, much nicer,' he added, to be drowned out by howls of protest from the Maltese team. Tony laughed, beginning to enjoy himself. He would have to call his parents later in the evening, to tell them he had played water polo in Exiles' Bay – finally a little pleasant news. He had a feeling he wouldn't need to invent anything for them today, he was already having a wonderful time. Tony was placed at the back, and told to just catch the ball and throw it back over the net.

'You're not bad, Tony,' Jo told him after the game. 'You could join the team, if you'd live here!'

Tony laughed and shook his head. 'Thanks, but I'm going home now. I haven't been there for a year.' He found his towel in his bag and rubbed himself dry, pulling his t-shirt over his head. His eyes strayed back to the sunlit water, marveling at the shade of blue. An image of Halliday floated into his mind. Halliday would have loved it here; he would have stayed on this beach till 23:00. He shook his head to clear it, blinking a couple of times.

'Tony.' He turned to see Jo watching him. 'We're having a party tonight, at my parents' house. We're all going; there'll be quite a crowd. You're welcome to join us.'

He swallowed, touched. 'Thanks, but I can't. I've got to be back at the port at 11 at night.'

'I've got to be back too, for work tomorrow. Come on, we're all going in my boat. It's really not far. You'd get to see Malta as we sail past and Gozo too. And Xlendi Bay. There'll be plenty of food.'

The rest of the team nodded, urging him to accept the invitation. Tony gazed at them, enjoying their company. He would get to see a section of coast by boat, and he already loved the sound of that bay they mentioned. Of course it was safer to stay in Malta and be certain of making it back to the port by 11:00, but then, if he refused the invitation he would always regret not having accepted it. He found himself nodding.

'My boat's over there,' Jo said, pointing to a motor boat secured to an orange buoy. 'I'll go get it.' He brought it over to a jetty, and they climbed in, a few too many for the small boat, but possible as the sea was calm. They pointed out the bays they passed to Tony, who gazed at his map, and questioned him at length about LA. On the open sea he had a view of both islands, noting a streak of dust in the air far above them stretching as far south as he could see.

'What's that?' he asked, pointing upwards. 'Surely it's not from the Sahara.'

'Surely it is,' laughed one of them. 'It brings dust everyday, except in the winter, when the wind blows from the north.'

Soon they left the open sea and headed into a wide bay with cliffs all around, ending in a sandy beach. Jo pointed to the map. 'We're here, Tony. Xlendi Bay –the X is pronounced "sh" in Maltese. What do you think?'

Tony found himself grinning. The same blue water greeted him, swishing gently by the tiny jetty Jo nosed the boat against. 'I'll just anchor the boat, and we'll go,' he told them. 'Come on, Tony, it's not far.' Tony followed them two streets behind the beach, to a flat roofed house with a green door and windows.

'Mama, Papa, I brought a guest' Jo called, introducing Tony. They greeted him cheerfully, telling Jo to show him a few spots on the island before dinner. 'You want to see Calypso's Cave?' he asked, and Tony nodded eagerly.

They returned at five in the afternoon, having explored a large part of Gozo. 'Jo, would you take the plates out now, and tell your father to stop fiddling with that motor, he can't fix it anyway,' his mother said. Tony grabbed some plates and helped carry them outside, laying them on a table. He glanced at Jo's father sitting at a work bench with pieces of a boat's motor spread in front of him.

'What's wrong with it?' he asked, quietly, still a little shy.

'Better ask what's right with it,' sighed the man. 'It's old, that's all. One day I'll have to get a new one. I just have to get it working for tomorrow, or I can't go fishing. It's better to have a motor, you know.'

Tony nodded. 'Can I take a look?' he asked.

The man nodded. 'Of course. You know about motorboats?'

'A little,' he replied, examining it critically. 'We had to pass a short course on how to get them going, in case they broke down.' He frowned in concentration.

The first guests began arriving, filling the house and spilling into the garden as he worked. 'You got any spare parts?' he asked, and he was led to a shed, and pointed to a shelf. He found a new valve which he replaced, and rewired the motor. He pulled the cord, testing it. It coughed a few times and roared into life.

Several people crowded round, praising him. 'Tony, that's good. This motor hasn't sounded this good since I got it. Thanks.'

'You're welcome.' He got up, knowing he had taken a long time to repair it, time he wouldn't have had in a hostile situation. 'I was too slow. They wouldn't have been impressed.'

'Some people are just too impatient. You can't always rush life,' Jo's father told him. 'Come on, have something to eat now. Have a little wine. My father-in-law makes it himself.'

Tony tried a glass of wine, tasting the rich grapes. He nodded at the old man who sat on a bench watching him. 'It's great. My grandfather makes his own wine too.' The old man looked interested, speaking to him in halting English.

'He grow his grapes?'

Tony grabbed a plate of food and settled on the bench. 'Yes, he does. Every year.'

He helped carry a pile of dirty dishes back to the kitchen, earning a grateful look from Jo's mother. A CD was put on; loud music filled the garden, a Maltese song he hadn't heard before.

'The neighbors don't mind you're having so many people?' he asked.

Jo's mother laughed. 'No, they're all here too.' She smiled at his astonishment. 'Jo, switch that CD off and play the song yourself. You're better than they are!'

Jo groaned, but dozens of people insisted, so he fetched his guitar and played the same song. Tony listened for a while, and then wandered over to the end of the garden, watching the moon rise over the bay. He found himself wishing the ship would take a second day to repair. There were still so many things he hadn't seen yet.

'You like the songs?' Jo asked, joining him. Tony nodded. 'Then take the CD. We've got another, exactly the same.' Tony thanked him and put the CD in his bag. Another man from the water polo game played the guitar now, a different song. 'Il Bahar, the sea,' Jo told him, as he listened. The song finished. 'Ok, it's your turn now, Tony. Play us something.'

Tony shook his head in a hurry. 'I can't.'

'Yes, you can! I saw the way you looked at that guitar. Go on, one song, and then we must leave, or you'll be late.'

The old man pushed a second glass of wine into his hand. 'You drink. Maybe you forget what you see before.' He sipped his drink slowly, seeing Marco's beaten body, the beheaded sailor, the blown up marines and himself lying trapped under the rubble. It would take bottles of the stuff to make him forget, he knew. Still, it tasted good.

'Come on, Tony,' insisted Jo, and he allowed himself to be dragged to a bench. The guitar was placed in his hands. He wandered what to play for them, choosing a cheerful Spanish song. The wine helped. He ended up playing two more American songs before standing up.

'I got to go now. Thanks for inviting me.' Jo's relatives shook his hand and told him to come again, someday. He nodded, promising he would when he had some time. The old man handed him three large bottles with more wine. Tony shook his head hurriedly. 'I can't. It's too much.'

'You take. You have long way home,' insisted the old fisherman.

Tony thanked him and wrapped them up in his towel, hurrying after Jo to the beach. He jumped into the boat, placing his bag at his feet, watching as they nosed out of Xlendi Bay into the open sea. Gentle waves lapped the boat. He gazed ahead, watching their approach to Malta, all lit up in the darkness.

'We're not going to make it back by 11.00, are we?' he asked, already knowing the answer.

Jo shook his head. 'Sorry, the party was too good. No, it's already 11:50.'

Tony stared at his watch, stunned. He could only imagine the captain's annoyance. Jo dropped him back at the same jetty in Sliema, and he rushed for the car, driving as fast as he could back to Valletta. Amazingly someone remained in the car hire shop, and he handed the car back, rushing off the minute the paperwork was completed. Quite a few tourists wandered past him as he raced through the gates of the city, and down to the port.

He pushed the door open, breathless from his long run. A man in uniform waylaid him immediately. 'You're Lieutenant Almeida?' he asked. Tony nodded. 'Your captain has been waiting for you for the past two hours,' he said.

'Am I the last one back?' Tony asked.

'Oh yes. He has been calling me every ten minutes. Paranoid, really. I told him this is a safe place, you are probably having fun somewhere, but he won't listen.'

Tony rubbed his forehead. 'Oh God,' he groaned. 'I had a great time. It just passed too quickly.'

The official nodded, grinning. 'You might not have such a great time back there.' He pointed to the ship. 'Come on, you have a sailor waiting to take you back.' Tony raced for the small boat. He wandered how he would ever face his men again. They had all managed to return by 11:00, and he hadn't!

He faced an indignant navy captain upon his arrival. The man gazed at him irritated. 'Lieutenant Almeida, do you realize what time it is here?' he demanded. 'I have annoyed the harbor master calling about you. Where the devil have you been?'

Tony stood at attention, unable to offer any excuse for his lateness. 'I'm sorry sir, the time just ran out.'

'I could throw you in the brig for this,' the captain told him. His heart sank. 'However, you're a Marine; I'll let your own captain deal with you. Get out!' Tony left in a hurry.

He unpacked his bag, wrapping the bottles securely before placing them in his backpack. Once he folded it away he went to see Anderson, preparing himself for a long lecture. Anderson didn't disappoint him, keeping him in his office for fifteen minutes before confining him to his cabin for the next two days.

'But sir, the ship's not fixed yet. I didn't make us late for anything. _Thank God for that. _And even Cinderella got until midnight!'

Anderson got up from his desk. 'Go to your cabin immediately, Almeida! You've just managed to get yourself an extra day.'

* * *

Tony moved back to the corner, leaning against both walls for support. Slowly he lowered his head against the walls, careful not to move his neck more than necessary. His eyes closed. Words of the Maltese song drifted back to him, reminding him of the trip he had always planned but had never quite found time for. He had been planning on going "later", unaware of just how abruptly his life would end. It had ended yesterday, as he'd stepped through those white steel doors. This waste of time was _not_ life.

His heart ached. His eyes stung. He kept them shut, not wanting them to appear red tomorrow.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

Tony pulled his uniform jacket closer around himself, shuddering in the icy rain that blew diagonally across the sky. How in the world rain could fall from that angle amazed him. He contemplated sneaking back inside the ship, but disembarkation was well under way, and Anderson awaited him on the quay. Groaning aloud, he felt his way down the gangway, not wishing the howling wind to push him into the sea. He held his hat firmly with one hand, already having chased it across the deck moments before.

Anderson gazed at the sea, lost in thought, appearing as miserable as Tony himself. 'The beach,' Tony commented after a few moments of silence.

'The beach,' his captain echoed.

'I don't think Jaws ever visits this part of the world,' Tony continued, shouting above the wind.

Anderson stirred. 'Almeida, swimming is forbidden! Do I make myself clear?'

Tony nodded. 'Yes, Sir.' Swimming was one of his least desires right then. 'Sir, the men should get indoors,' he reminded his captain.

Anderson seemed to pull himself together. He found the bus that had been sent for the men, ordering them inside. A car drew up, with the base commander arriving personally to greet them. They climbed into the car together, Tony squashed with the bags at the back.

'Welcome to Alaska,' the commander greeted them. 'Seems like yesterday Captain Harris and his men arrived, and now they are leaving us.' Tony turned back to watch a crowd of marines fully loaded down running up the gangway. 'Hell, they look ready to go' he thought. Heavy rain closed visibility to about a foot in any direction, blocking out the departing marines. He turned round and listened to the conversation. 'Of course this entire chain of islands is vital in protecting US territorial waters,' he was saying.

'What season is this, again?' Tony heard himself ask. The commander glanced back in the mirror, noticing him for the first time.

'It's summer, of course! Do you see any snow round here. Though it's an unusually poor summer so far!' They approached a large fence, driving through the open gates. Tony noticed a flag whipped round in the gale, and a soggy sports field with a basketball net that appeared torn. His heart sank. 'Why had he ever grumbled about the desert?' he wandered. It hadn't really been too bad. Nice warm sand, hours of fun pulling stranded vehicles out of looser parts, and pleasant insect song to fill the nights.

The base was tiny, consisting of one large building surrounded by the fence. It was too cold to have people wandering around outdoors unnecessarily, Tony expected. He followed a soldier to the tiny room assigned to him and laid his bag on the floor. A view of the grey sea caused him to shiver. What would he do here, off duty? He foresaw hours of TV.

He sat on his bed for a minute, watching the moving sea, before he rose and left the room, unable to unpack. As long as his things remained in the backpack he could pretend he was about to leave. Instinctively he found himself heading for his men's barracks, hoping Koskinen could cheer him up.

His men had already begun the process of settling in. 'At ease' he told them, amazed to hear normal conversation from them.

'Sir,' Koskinen appeared. 'Let me show you the games room.' He led Tony outside to a room well equipped with a pool table, a ping pong table and a dart board. A large TV stood in one corner, surrounded by sofas. 'Not too bad, really,' he remarked.

Tony shook his head wordlessly. 'We'll certainly earn our pay here!' he sighed.

Outside the rain poured down ceaselessly. Tony wandered back to his room, resolving not to call his parents to notify them of his safe arrival just yet. He might well burst into tears, and that would never do.

'Almeida, there you are,' Anderson told him, catching him in the corridor. 'Come along to the office. I need to brief you on your new duties.' Tony followed him downstairs and into a large office. 'Sit down' he was told, and Anderson settled behind his new desk. 'Have you finished unpacking?'

Tony shook his head. 'Not quite, Sir.'

The captain shook his head. 'Well, I suggest you get on with it then, Almeida. We've been here two hours already; you should have had ample time to unpack a couple of uniforms. Now tonight we're dining with the commander. We're the first new people he's seen in six months, so he's keen on getting to know us a little. Spare him any further weather related comments, would you, Almeida. And pick a couple of men to stand sentry duty. Dinner is at 19.00, don't be late.'

The temperature appeared lower than when they arrived. Tony had to push with his full strength to open the door to the courtyard. Outside the wind nearly blew him away. He hurriedly stepped back indoors. Who could he possibly order out of the warmth into that?

'Almeida, a word,' Anderson told him an hour later, as he checked the men had settled. Tony got up from the TV he had been watching with almost his entire group and followed him outside. 'Who is on sentry duty? Everyone appears to be here apart from Peters and Evans, whom I saw at various ends of the corridor.'

Tony scratched his face. 'Sir, Peters and Evans _are_ on sentry duty, it's just so cold outside they're looking through the window,' he explained.

Anderson frowned at him. 'Almeida, sentry duty entails being _outside_! I read nothing about exceptions due to poor weather conditions.'

'But sir, no one has done anything wrong to deserve that' Tony argued. 'And as we're the only ones on the whole island, I don't see…'

'That's enough, Almeida,' snapped Anderson, getting annoyed. 'Send them outside at once. And you've got a good two hours to familiarize yourself with the island as well. Follow the coast round and examine the island for possible landing spots. On the double' he ordered, as Tony gazed at him speechless.

Tony saluted smartly and went to collect an extra jumper and his coat. He paused to examine Evans trying to shelter against the wall. 'Take it up with the captain' he said, and set off towards the coast, fighting to stay upright in the wind. He gave the sea a wide berth to avoid getting sprayed with ice cold water, watching waves batter sharp rocks. A seal would have problems climbing out, let alone a human being, he thought in disgust. Two hours later he concluded that the only possible spot to land any small water craft was the port, and that was partly artificial too, a long sea wall sheltering the harbor. He tried the door of the port building, but it was locked. 'Damn it' he muttered, his hopes of seeking shelter for a couple of minutes dashed. He leaned against the locked door and gazed at the almost empty harbor. Only one small water craft bobbed on the waves.

The building sheltered him from the majority of the rain. 'Why had Anderson sent him outside?' he wandered Apart from arguing with him about the sentries, he had done nothing wrong. Well, they were here because he had annoyed the general, that's why Anderson was mad at him. Tony cursed the general and set off up the hill to the base. The wind grabbed his coat, wrapping it round him, forcing him to spin around to straighten it. As he dealt with his coat his hat blew off, flying downhill. Tony's Spanish oaths would have horrified his father, as he raced back downhill, failing to catch up with it before it dropped in the ocean. He reached forward to pull it out, getting sprayed from an extra large wave. Soaked to the skin he trudged back uphill, carrying his hat.

He turned the shower on using only the hot water tap, trying to get warm. Presently his skin turned red from the heat, but his bones remained cold. He stepped outside and glanced at his watch. 18:46, he would have to dress in a hurry. Hopefully dinner would warm him up. He threw on his clean uniform, tidied his hair, found his shoes and raced down the corridor.

'Sir' Koskinen called. Tony hurried over to him. 'Your mother called. Switchboard diverted the call here as no one could locate you.'

'Did you speak to her?' he asked, feeling guilty for having forgotten his promise to let them know he'd arrived safely.

'Yes, Sir,' Koskinen replied.

Tony sighed. 'What did you tell her?'

'I said you were out for a walk, looking at the beach,' Koskinen replied, without batting an eyelid.

Tony grinned. 'Did she ask what the place was like?'

'Yes Sir, she did. I said it was quite small, really.'

Tony burst out laughing. He could imagine his parents' exasperation with his sergeant. 'Thanks, I'll call them after dinner.' He turned to go.

'Sir, the commander is from Alaska,' Koskinen told him. 'He lives further north than this base. I wouldn't complain about the weather too much, you wouldn't really want to check out the island by twilight.'

Tony went red. So Evans and Peters had overheard Anderson disciplining him. He nodded, thanking Koskinen for the information.

Three of them sat down to dinner in an elegant dining room, part of the commander's quarters, served by a soldier. He turned out to be a gracious host, entertaining them with tales of hiking in Alaskan national parks, the animals to be found in the area, and the beauty spots. Despite his feelings about the place, Tony found himself listening, amazed. The talk drifted to the strategic importance of the island. It was only a small part of a chain of defense installations, built mainly to keep the island occupied.

'Of course we don't have a swimming pool or a gym, like you had back in Saudi Arabia' said the commander. Anderson assured him they would do well without them. The commander turned to Tony who had remained largely silent during the meal. 'You're from LA, Almeida. You must find it very cold here now.'

'Yes Sir,' Tony replied, honestly. The commander smiled. 'You'll get used to it. Normally it would take a new settler two years for their blood to thicken. Until that time you will find yourselves pestered more than usual by our mosquitoes and midgets. However, they die in the autumn. You'll be with us six months, before getting rotated. No chance to go shopping or anything here, I'm afraid, though we do get the latest movies. I hear you are good with computers, Almeida; I could certainly use your skills here. Until now if our network went down we called someone over from base in a helicopter.'

'I'll do my best, Sir' Tony replied. 'My computing skills are getting a little out of date now. I'd really need to study a little to refresh them.'

'Feel free to do so. You'll get plenty of time.' Tony thanked him, pleased.

Later that evening he called his parents, apologizing for his inability to call before. He described the island as quiet, cold and wet, but made no mention of just how unpleasant the weather was. 'I really miss you all,' he said, sadly. Both parents assured him he was missed too. He called Jane afterwards, listening to her chatter about painting the nursery, and buying baby furniture. She seemed to be planning the entire place alone, he noted, making a mental note to question his mother about her later. Why wasn't Robert helping?

The gale turned into a full blown storm by the time he hung up. Clouds whipped across the fully light sky. The double glazed thick windows were shaken. How would he ever sleep, he wandered. Quietly he reached for his guitar case and opened it, taking out the instrument. His fingers ran over the strings, and unconsciously he found himself playing the song he'd heard back in Gozo at the Galea's party. He closed his eyes, picturing the colorful lights and the moon lighting up Xlendi Bay.

Feeling slightly more cheerful he went to bed, drawing the dark curtains to keep the daylight from bothering him.

The weather changed three days later. The storm passed, and Tony could have sworn the ground steamed. He felt hot in his coat, so he left it behind when he accompanied his men to the island's centre. Birds chirped everywhere around dozens of shallow lakes. Tony found himself removing his jumper and standing at the edge of a lake in his t-shirt. Maybe the commander was right, he thought. Maybe the far north did have its own beauty. He swatted a mosquito that landed on his arm impatiently. Damn thing, it was too small for him to locate. An instant later a cloud of them settled all around him. Tony rushed to higher ground, attempting to brush them off himself.

'Damn mosquitoes' he grumbled to Koskinen, who joined him on the walk, 'why don't the birds eat them?'

'They do, sir.' Koskinen told him. 'Look at those wildflowers over there.' Tony turned to see an entire field of them. 'They'll flower only a couple of weeks, so if we could walk that way, Sir.' He nodded.

During the next few weeks Tony worked hard on a few computer courses he enrolled in during his spare time. The base sent a new net for the basketball ring and he played a little in the afternoons.

'Koskinen, take it easy,' Tony ordered his sergeant, hearing him coughing for the second day in a row. 'I want you to stay back today. I'll take the men out on a run.'

'You sure, Sir. I'm not that sick,' Koskinen protested.

'Yeah, I'm sure.' Tony felt a little guilty he had been neglecting his military duties somewhat as he concentrated so hard on his studies. 'You rest.' The day proved warmer than any previous one since their arrival. Everyone wore t-shirts and applied plenty of mosquito repellent. 'Right, lets go,' Tony ordered, slinging his camera across his neck. Today he planned on taking a few pictures of the flowers for his mother before they faded. He led them several miles along the trail before they arrived at the first group of wildflowers. 'Ok, guys, take a break. I'll be right back.'

Now if only they would turn out on film the way they were in real life, Tony thought, managing to capture a flock of birds in the background. His parents would be convinced this place was a veritable paradise! Anderson called him into his office that evening, as he wrote yet another letter home.

'Almeida, you're not paid to take photos here,' he said sternly. Tony bowed his head. 'Tomorrow I'm sending you out to sea to patrol the surrounding islands. Don't scrape the boat against any rocks, will you!'

'No sir,' Tony promised, thrilled at the thought of taking the boat for a ride.

They piled their rifles into the boat, next to their sandwiches. Tony ordered life jackets onto all of them as the sea was rough, and switched on the engine. The boat sprang to life, chugging out of the harbor. Once in the open sea the waves grabbed it, jerking it up and down in the swell. 'Let's head south first,' Tony told Koskinen, 'we'll have the wind behind us.' He moved the boat faster, until they nearly flew over the waves.

'Don't let's get lost, Sir,' Koskinen told him, cheerfully. 'We wouldn't like to end up in Siberia!'

Tony laughed aloud. 'We're miles away, relax.' A distant noise distracted him; he gazed upwards, searching the sky. 'Speak of the devil – look at that plane. It's a MIG!'

The plane flew past, merely a few miles from the border. Tony shook his head. 'This place sure sees action,' he remarked. They sped further south. For a second he longed to take them all the way back to LA. 'Get a grip, Almeida,' he told himself firmly 'this is your new post. You _will_ defend it!'

'Sir, radar shows an unknown directly south of our position,' Evans reported. Tony narrowed his eyes. Was the whole world out at sea here today? He examined the radar critically.

'An unknown, alright. Wander why our fighters haven't been scrambled. Let's check it out. Battle stations.' The men grabbed their rifles and flak jackets, taking up posts along the boat's edges. Tony donned his own gear and pushed the boat as fast as it could go. He could see a shadow on the horizon now, if he strained his eyes through the binoculars.

A few minutes later he allowed the binoculars to fall against his chest. 'Damn. It's a fishing trawler! Why weren't we notified it would be here?'

'Sir, I'm guessing that's because it's not one of ours,' Koskinen told him.

Tony looked amazed. 'Whose, then?' He could already guess, however. The boat had obviously been noticed but no action had been taken to chase it away. Markings on the vessel confirmed his suspicions. 'They're Japanese!'

'Sir, they're drift net fishing' one of his marines told him. 'I worked on a trawler once. They're scraping the seabed.'

'Not here they're not,' Tony answered, forcefully. 'Where's the microphone?' He switched off the engines and addressed the boat, ordering them to leave US waters at once.

A few sailors gave them sullen looks – the rest ignored their presence. Tony faced his men, annoyed. 'Doesn't look like they're taking us seriously, Sir,' Ray told him.

'Oh, they'll see we're serious, don't you worry,' Tony replied, fuming. 'We could use a little target practice. Aim two feet above the stern.'

'Sir,' Koskinen protested, 'they'll take that as a hostile action.'

'They better do!' Tony replied. 'Remember the song, Koskinen? We're marines; we defend our nation's borders on the land _and on the sea_! On my mark, fire.' A volley of shots flew over the trawler's stern. 'Looks like we got their attention,' Tony said, satisfied to see someone appear with a microphone.

'American patrol boat, we are a civilian vessel. Any further action will be interpreted as a hostile act, and we will complain to your government.'

Tony's face turned red. 'Illegal fishing trawler, you have exactly five minutes to get the hell out of our waters. After that time you will see what the word "hostile" really means' he snapped. He glanced at his watch, noting the time. Silence fell, the crew showing no sign of preparing for departure.

The MIG appeared again, flying just beyond the border. The five minutes passed. 'Illegal fishing trawler, your five minutes have passed,' Tony called. The man who had spoken to them earlier laughed and made a rude hand gesture.

Tony's face flushed. He raised his rifle, aiming carefully, and fired two shots inches above the man's head. His men cheered.

'Sir, they're hauling in their nets' the same marine told him. 'They're getting ready to go.'

'Yeah,' Tony muttered.

Five minutes later the trawler was moving, heading south. Tony watched them leave, satisfied. The plane's noise distracted him from enjoying his victory. 'What the hell is that plane doing, flying up and down?' he demanded, gazing upwards.

Slowly the plane dipped its wings, before turning in a lazy arc and returning east. Tony gazed after it, speechless.

* * *

He settled on the floor in the corner, drawing his knees up close to his chest. A shiver ran through him. Tony felt his arms carefully, surprised to feel them so cold. Somewhere he had a sweater. It shouldn't be too hard to find here. He glanced around without moving his head, seeing it lying on the chair. Slowly he got up and went to get it, pulling it over his aching arms, extra carefully over the bandage on his neck. He pressed his face to the bars, taking a look at the empty corridor before wandering aimlessly back to his corner. Was it really cold in here, or was the memory of that howling wind affecting him? He sank back into his corner, too exhausted to sleep.

'


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

"Summer" passed rapidly, ending in the same rainstorms that had greeted them upon arrival. Leaving the building to go outdoors soaked Tony to the skin, no matter how fast he moved, or what coat he wore. The wind blew the sheets of rain against them from every direction, limiting their outdoor exercises to the few minutes between showers. A depressed mood hung over the small base. The TV played all day, turned up loud to be heard over the arctic storms.

Tony was given permission to fly to Anchorage to sit two computing exams, passing them both with flying colors. He was given little chance to explore the town as the same helicopter that brought a few officers heading home for leave was waiting to take him back.

'Almeida, your men are becoming totally undisciplined' Anderson complained to him once he returned. 'They are slow to follow orders and put the minimum effort into every one of their tasks. Deal with them, or I will be forced to do so!'

'Sir, I think they're just missing the Gulf,' Tony replied. Sleet blew past the window. He gazed at it in horror. It was only the middle of September! His family had been at the beach yesterday, he had spoken to them on the phone, listening enviously to Maria describing the waves she and Joey had surfed. Hell, he was missing the Gulf too!

'Look, Almeida, we're probably returning there in January. Right now we're HERE, and I won't tolerate sloppiness.'

'Yes Sir,' Tony told him, leaving him to unpack his small bag. He sank onto the bed, exhausted from sitting two demanding exams the same day. Now he had more time he would concentrate more on his men, though how he could provide them with any kind of stimulation he wasn't certain. He closed his eyes, falling asleep fully dressed on the bed cover.

Tony entered the barracks, watching his men muttering to each other. He heard several colorful adjectives describing the weather that particular morning. 'Guess what, guys. The b----- rain has stopped!' 'Yeah, it's ------snowing now!'

'Attention' Koskinen ordered, seeing him. Tony noted how slowly his men responded.

'Alright, I saw the snow for myself' he told them. 'Now we've all been spending far too much time indoors. I'll meet you outside in, say, two minutes, for a healthy walk. Don't forget your coats.'

He tiptoed back to listen to the curses his order generated, grinning. He dressed himself, pulling on his boots, and opened the door, entering a strong northerly wind. They stood waiting for him, at attention. Never in all his time with them had he seen them look so utterly depressed. 'Alright, at ease,' he told them. 'We're going for a walk by the sea.' He set off, calling Koskinen to join him.

'What's up with everyone?' he inquired. 'Captain Anderson is real mad at you guys. Did something happen I don't know about?'

Koskinen shook his head. 'No sir, it's more the place, and the fact that everyone would like some leave now. If you could promise a little leave before our next deployment they'd be ok. Of course I could discipline a few.'

Tony shook his head. 'Not yet. Let me look into the possibility of leave. I want to go home too.' He paused, ashamed, realizing he had spoken from his heart again. Koskinen gazed at the grey sea. 'Hell, Koskinen, don't you want to go home?' he asked.

'Sure I do' he replied, noticing some stragglers and leaving to tell them to move it. After a long walk they returned to the base, exhausted. Tony showered and went to find Anderson, knocking on his office door. He walked in when asked to do so.

'Captain, could I have a moment?' he asked, waiting by the door.

'You can have an hour' replied Anderson, fiddling with a CD player. 'This thing isn't working anymore. It fell off the table.' He fell silent. 'What's up, Almeida?'

'Sir, I know we've all had leave two months ago, but this place is so isolated, and the weather is so harsh, the men would really cheer up if I could promise them a couple of days before our next deployment,' he began. 'Just a couple of days. It would give them something to look forward to.' He gazed pleadingly at the captain, arguing for his own sake as much as for theirs.

'Well, I'll do my best.'

'Thank you, sir.' Tony pulled the CD player towards himself. He checked the connection point. 'Do you mind if I take a look at it?' Anderson waved his hand towards the player.

An hour later Tony returned, grinning. 'Would you grant us all five days leave if your player worked again, Captain?' he asked.

Anderson laid down yesterday's newspaper. 'Did you fix it? Well done, Almeida. I managed to get a reply to my request for a week in January. It's been approved.' Tony failed to keep a grin off his face. 'Oh, Almeida this applies only to those who deserve it, tell them that!'

'Yes sir' he replied, and hurried to find the men. Anderson had been right, they _were_ getting undisciplined. Pesic was poking a pool cue at Peters, yelling something about cheating. Someone had turned the TV on to maximum to drown out the argument. Nobody noticed his arrival. Tony marched over to the TV and switched it off. Silence fell. 'Right,' he said, sternly. 'Over to that wall, the lot of you!' He snatched the cue from Pesic, throwing it onto the pool table. It landed with a thud, causing a few marines to jump. They gazed at him with the same respect he'd last seen when chasing away the trawler. 'I see such behavior again no one is getting any leave,' he said, loudly. 'Oh,' he continued, quieter, 'that's what I came to tell you. Captain Anderson has granted us all a week home in January, before our next deployment. That's _if _we deserve it. Right now it looks more like you guys deserve a whole year out here!' A murmur ran through the group. 'Now there's no excuse for turning the volume up so high on that TV, it's disturbing the entire base! It stays off for the rest of the week, is that clear?' They agreed reluctantly. He looked at them all. They stood rigidly at attention, awaiting his sentence. Tony sighed. Koskinen wasn't quite well, he would have to take them outdoors himself again. 'I want you all outside with a full kit in ten minutes. We're going on a hike.' He left to find his outdoor clothes, grumbling to himself. A second walk on the same day, and it really was snowing now.

He led them through the center of the island as it was slightly less exposed. Watching them struggle reminded him of being forced up and down a hill with his own backpack. 'OK, guys, we have a five minute break!' he told them. Backpacks were removed, they sank down. Tony settled on the cold ground, mentally composing his next letter home. His family must be heartily sick of the word "rain" in the letters by now, well, he guessed they'd soon get sick of the word "snow" as well.

The next morning an inch of snow covered the ground. Tony gazed at it in the greatest dismay. That much snow wouldn't melt in a hurry –it was probably here to stay. 'Come on, Almeida, cheer up, it's only another four months,' he told himself, remembering the fun he'd had in Chicago building snowmen.

They had snow every consecutive day. Soon it piled up high enough to force Tony to send a few of his men out to shovel it off the courtyard. He watched them struggling with shovels, making little progress. 'Guys, you're doing it wrong,' he told them, taking the shovel from one of them. He hit the snow almost level with the earth and attempted to move it. The shovel made a clanking sound and nothing budged. Tony stared in astonishment, bending down to feel the ground. 'Damn it, it's frozen' he grumbled. He frowned at it, searching his memory for ways his parents had cleared their paths. Little came to mind beyond the shovel. A sudden thought occurred to him. He hurried upstairs and knocked softly on a door.

'Hey, Koskinen, the captain wants the snow removed, and we're digging; only it's too frozen to budge. Got any ideas?' he asked.

Koskinen laughed. 'Well, you've come to the expert. You need salt, Sir, to melt it a little if it's that frozen. I'm sure there's plenty around somewhere. I'd only bother with the paths.'

Tony thanked him for the advice and set off to locate salt. He found sacks of it in a storeroom and set his men to spreading a little out. It looked like they would have plenty to occupy themselves with during the remainder of their stay. He took them outdoors for a hike after lunch.

Two weeks later Koskinen recovered enough to take the men on their hikes and deal with the snow on the paths. Tony accompanied them whenever the wind didn't howl, but occasionally he remained indoors, watching the men departing with a guilty conscience before switching on his computer and shooting at a few monsters. He worked through the little paper work rapidly, watched a little TV, wrote emails to his family, and counted the minutes remaining on the island. Worked out in minutes it seemed a depressingly large number.

'Almeida' Anderson exclaimed, irritated at being ignored.

'A minute,' Tony replied, clicking at a monster hauling a boulder. The computer gave a realistic sound of a rock falling. 'Damn it,' he exclaimed, as his character was flattened. Would he never get past that ridge?

'Almeida,' Anderson said, furiously. 'Get up!'

Tony blinked, startled to find the glaring captain beside him. He rose hurriedly. 'Yes, Sir.'

Anderson laid several papers on his desk. 'Copies of reports for the past week, Almeida,' he snapped. 'Care to explain why every one of them is identical? You haven't even bothered to change a few sentences around.'

'Well sir, we've been doing pretty much the same thing all week,' he defended himself. He was amazed Anderson had even bothered reading his reports, let alone remembered them enough to notice he printed the same thing out day after day, changing only the date.

Anderson glared at him. 'You seem to have ample time for playing.'

'I'm sorry sir, I'll write something original tomorrow,' Tony replied, half his mind on the rock hauling monster.

'You'll write something original for _every one_ of these days, Almeida, do you hear me?' he snapped. 'Tomorrow we're getting inspected by Admiral Melville. He's known to show an interest in paperwork. I want a copy of a report for the entire week, and it better be written in full detail, do you hear? They're to be on my desk by 18:00 tonight.'

'Yes sir,' Tony said, stunned.

'And I want the area fit for inspection. As soon as the men return they can start. I'll inspect it myself at 20:00. Now get on with it!'

Tony shook his head as he switched off the game. 'Now for an exercise in creative writing', he thought, 'describing the same ice cold walk five different ways.'

Tony supervised the base's clean-up, unhappy with the thought of the admiral's visit. Experience taught him trouble accompanied visits by such dignitaries. It would be hard to blend into the crowd on such a tiny base, which meant he would be expected to have a few words to say to their guest.

An ice cold wind greeted the admiral the following day. They waited at attention, frozen through. The admiral arrived ten minutes late, and then walked down the rows slowly, inspecting them. 'At least the men get to stand close together,' Tony thought bitterly to himself. He stood alone, exposed to the full brunt of the wind.

'Try to keep the place tidy' Tony told Koskinen, and was forced to join the officers for lunch. A special menu had been prepared for the admiral and his entourage, a sea-food special. Tony eyed each dish in despair. Surely there was _something_ he liked on the table. Eventually he settled for a salad with a roll and a thin slice of fish, which he forced himself to eat.

'Commander, I couldn't help noticing the flagpole on the far side of the island was bare' remarked the admiral.

'Sir, we're expecting a blizzard. That side gets the brunt of the storm, we just lose flags. I thought it advisable to fold it away and put it up when the weather clears.'

The admiral frowned. 'Commander, this island, however small, is part of the United States. I want to see the flag flying in all weather.' The commander nodded and glanced around the room. Tony attempted to move behind a large pot plant, but the commander found him anyway.

'Almeida, go raise the flag,' he ordered. 'You look as though you've finished lunch.'

Tony didn't dare to sigh openly. 'Yes sir,' he said, and went to find his coat. Trust the admiral to raise a flag in a blizzard. And naturally the task would have to fall on him. He pushed his way through the door that threatened to slam closed on him and fought his way over to the other side of the island, bending almost double in the gale. He was forced to hang onto the flagpole for support while he raised the flag, watching it whipped around. It took him a long time to raise it to the top. He wandered how long it would last before the wind shredded it. The sky darkened. Very suddenly the flag spun around, followed by sheets of snow. Tony narrowed his eyes, never having seen this before. The next moment thick snow swirled around him. The wind no longer blew steadily from the north, but seemed to push him from every direction at once.

His heart beat faster. They had covered this last week in a lecture held by the commander – blizzards. They had been told to head indoors immediately, and now he was outside alone in one, several miles from the nearest shelter! He had to get back right away. The wind blew ever harder, bringing such thick snow he began to lose his sense of direction. Tony paused. It would be impossible to follow the path back through the centre of the island. He would wander round until he froze. Honestly, he could hardly stand upright anymore. It would be wiser to follow the coast around until he came to the port, where he would be directly opposite the base.

Tony felt his way along the rough rocks of the coast, attempting to walk beside them. Progress was excruciatingly slow. He felt colder than ever before in his life. Soon he would be too cold to move, and he would die here. 'Stop that, Almeida,' he ordered himself sternly. 'You've been out here what, an hour or so, and you're already thinking about dying.' He moved on, feeling colder by the second. He had to remain focused if he wanted to reach the port. What was it Koskinen had told him – it's not the cold that will kill you, it's the wind.

The wind grabbed him and shoved him several feet from the rock he held onto, surrounding him in swirling snow. Fear rose inside him. He must not allow himself to be swept from the coast, or he would certainly get lost and freeze. He crawled backwards; weary with relief when his hands felt the same rock he had been blown from.

Heavy snowfall covered the ground and the rocks, making it harder for him to feel them with each passing minute. Darkness fell, a blackness surrounded by white falling snow. Tony's breath came in rugged gasps. He paused to rest frequently, chilled to the bone. The constant howling of the wind drove him close to his breaking point. 'Focus, Almeida.' He pictured his family at dinner, in the nice warm dining room, as they had been years ago, all of them present. They were waiting for him. He struggled on a few feet before collapsing, unable to bend his legs any more.

Tony lay down, watching the snow swirl around him, on top of him. 'I'm sorry, Mom, I can't do it anymore,' he whispered, moving his arm forward. How ironic it was, he had survived an explosion, been buried alive, been in combat several times, and he would be killed at home, by the weather! He closed his eyes. A faint creaking caused him to open them seconds later. What could that be? He listened hard, hearing it again above the blizzard. The boat! Tony forced himself up, crying in relief. He had made it to the port; he was practically beside the boat. Using his last remaining strength he crawled towards the sound, falling into the boat. He opened the hatch and fell down the ladder, out of the blizzard. His eyes closed.

Fiery liquid in his mouth forced his eyes open. He coughed violently, attempting to spit. 'No, no, sir, drink it. It'll warm you up.' Koskinen bent over him, pouring more vodka into his mouth. His throat burned. Tony forced himself up.

'Let me see your hands and feet, sir' Koskinen told him, pulling off his boots. Tony gazed at him alarmed. His sergeant pursed his lips and climbed the ladder with fresh snow, which he handed to Tony. 'Rub them real hard. Do you feel anything?'

'A mild stinging,' he replied, rubbing vigorously.

'That's good.' Silence descended. The mild stinging began to hurt him, burning painfully.

'Hell of day for a walk, sir,' Koskinen told him. Tony grinned faintly. 'Admiral Melville forbade anyone to search for you. He said one death was enough.' The bottle of vodka was pushed into Tony's hands again. 'I guessed you'd make for the port.'

'You disobeyed a direct order from an admiral,' Tony exclaimed, grinning more cheerfully.

'Well what can he do to me? Are you ready to come back now, sir?'

Tony sighed. He really hated the thought of heading out into the blizzard again, but Koskinen had a rope which he had tied directly to the flagpole in the courtyard, so they would find their way back. He nodded reluctantly. 'Yeah, I guess so.'

* * *

It had to be the memory of that blizzard that chilled him to the bones. Tony felt cold despite the sweater. He contemplated lying back down on the bed, under the blanket, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. The solid walls behind him offered him a strange comfort he wasn't ready to abandon. Slowly he got up, walking over to his bed, pulling the blanket off – dragging it all the way to the corner. He threw it over himself, listening for the guard. When he came he would put his hands outside – until then he would stay as comfortable as he could.

He had felt this same chill at home too, whenever he awoke to nightmares of howling gales. Tony smiled, remembering getting a couple of extra blankets for his bed in the dark, and Michelle waking up hot and sweaty minutes later, throwing them all off, drawing him close to her, warming him up better than a dozen blankets could have. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his cheeks a little moist.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

Tony no longer had a key to his parents' house so he was forced to knock on the door like a visitor. Well, that's all he was now, if he was honest with himself. He listened for approaching footsteps but heard none. The house was silent. He knocked again, then wandered over to the gate. It was locked, but he could climb over it easily. He threw his bags across and climbed after them, settling in a deck chair to wait for someone to arrive.

The verandah was the same as usual, filled with various sized boots laid in a neat row along the wall. He frowned at the sight. That neatness indicated the owners were not using them regularly. Surely they hadn't all gone away? He got up and peeped through the windows, examining the living room. Nothing lay out of place. He couldn't remember the room being that neat before. Unease rose inside him. He peered into the kitchen. That was neat too, yet he spotted a coffee mug half full lying on the window sill. He sighed in relief. Someone was certainly home then. He would just have to wait.

Tony wandered into the garden and stopped, grinning. A baby swing was attached to their old swing set. He shook his head, amused. Jane's baby wasn't due for another two weeks yet – it really seemed as though his parents couldn't wait.

'Tony' his mother cried, opening the verandah door and hugging him fiercely. 'I didn't know you were coming home.'

'It's a surprise,' he told her, hugging her back.

'Oh, pet, you've been outside in the cold,' she said, distressed.

Tony burst out laughing. 'Mom, it's not really cold. It's at least 50 degrees! There's no snow!' He had been enjoying the sight of greenery since they had arrived back in LA just after lunch.

His mother shook her head. 'Let's go inside. I was just going to make some coffee.' He picked up his bags and followed her in. 'You must be really sick of snow' she told him, filling the coffee maker.

'Sick to death of it,' he agreed, closing the door. 'How come everything's so tidy?'

'Pet, there's only Joey and Maria at home now, and they're in Chicago visiting Grandma for the holidays. It's just Papa and me at the moment.'

'And I come along to spoil your first time of real peace since I was born,' he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

'Oh, Tony,' his mother hugged him again. 'Truth is we're a little lost in this silence. Sure it looks nice and tidy, but really, no…….'

He nodded, agreeing with her. 'Well, you're going to be a grandma soon. I bet you're going to have this baby dumped on you more often than you like.'

'I sure hope so,' she told him. 'Tell me about Alaska. Were you very cold?'

'Only when I went outside,' he told her, grinning at her expression. 'Inside it was nice. We watched lots of TV.'

'And outside, when you did go out?'

He shook his head, ashamed. 'Well, I wore all the clothes I had piled on top of each other under the coat. The wind just blows through it all. And it's always windy coz it's a small island. If I never see snow again, it's too soon!'

His mother laughed. 'Maria was probably more excited to see snow than to see Grandma' she said, giving him an apologetic look. He grimaced, shaking his head.

After the coffee he went upstairs and folded his clothes away neatly. He had three whole weeks at home, and he was going to enjoy every single day. 'Mom,' he called, finding her folding away the children's washing, 'can we go see Janey tonight? And Anna?'

His mother laughed. 'One or the other, not both. We'll go see Janey, she's very tired nowadays. I'm a little worried about her.'

He nodded, holding up a finger. 'What about "what's his name?" Will he be there?'

His mother shook her head at him, laughing. 'Tony! No, Robert is in New York on business this week. You'll have to wait till next week to see him.'

'I'll try to get through the time,' Tony told her, with a deadpan expression.

'Tony'. He turned, grinning at his father. 'You're back! Thank God. I was so worried about you out there in that terrible cold. I kept worrying you'd freeze and lose your fingers or toes.' He hugged Tony tightly.

Tony shook his head. 'No. Koskinen reckons I had around another twenty minutes.'

His father's face paled. He poured a few drinks and handed them round. 'Tell us.' He was able to talk about the assignment and related getting caught in the blizzard. It felt great to be home and fussed over by both parents. Tony decided he would go to bed early that night and watch TV in bed.

'Tony, Papa and I will visit Jane now for a little while, but afterwards we're invited out to dinner. Will you be OK if we leave you with her?'

'Sure,' he replied. 'She can drive me home when she gets sick of me.'

Jane was as thrilled to see him as his parents had been. She hugged him tightly, refusing to let him go, insisting he sit beside her on the sofa. His parents had to leave fairly soon so they were left alone together, chatting about the previous six months. Jane dragged him upstairs to see the nursery, proud to show him her hard work setting it up. The breath caught in Tony's throat as he looked around. 'It's lovely.'

'I painted it, I made the fairy border, I bought the shelf full of dolls, and the fairy castle.'

'This baby better be a girl' he told her, grinning.

'Oh, they're pretty certain she is. Look here, I….' She paused, sitting down hurriedly in the rocking chair.

'Janey, are you OK?' he asked, anxiously. He didn't like the sight of her, cramped and in pain. For a while she remained silent before nodding. He helped her back downstairs, settling her comfortably on the sofa. 'Can I get you anything?' he asked.

She shook her head, leaning back against the sofa. 'No, I'm fine.' Suddenly her face paled again and she gasped aloud.

Tony rose in a hurry. 'Janey, you need to see a quack now. Come on, I'll drive you over to the hospital.'

Jane stared at him in despair. 'She can't be coming yet, Tony. I don't know where Mom is, and she promised to be there.'

'I'll be there,' he reassured her, leading her to her car. At the hospital he gave her a quick hug before sitting in the waiting room while she was examined. Soon the door opened and he hurried in. 'What did they say?'

'They said the baby's definitely on the way,' Jane told him, excited and nervous. 'Will you stay till Mom gets here?'

'Sure' he replied. He went with her to a quiet room and settled in the chair beside the bed. 'You OK?'

'Tony, I'm so scared. People die all the time on the TV,' she told him.

'Hey,' he exclaimed, taking her hand. 'That's just the TV. Come on, we've seen Spiderman gliding through city streets, that's not real either. You'll be fine. You'll have a cute baby who'll be just as big a nuisance as we were.' He searched his brain for a story to amuse her, to help her to relax. 'You never slept when you were a baby. I remember once Mom wanted to plant tomatoes, and you were screaming all day, so she took you out in your pram, you were about a year old then, and we hoped you'd go to sleep in the verandah, but you didn't. She asked me to rock the pram a little. Hell, I think she was just sick of my "help" with the tomatoes. I rocked your pram for a while, but you didn't sleep, so I decided to take you for a walk to the park, just like Mom used to do. I remember pulling the chair over to the gate and opening it.'

Jane burst out laughing. 'Did you take me out?'

Tony nodded firmly, pleased to see her looking happier. 'I sure did. All the way down the driveway, along the sidewalk, across a little road, and right along to the park. I had to look sideways coz I couldn't see a thing past the pram. We went to the playground.'

'How come Mom never told me about it?' Jane wandered.

'Oh, I don't think she likes to think about it,' Tony replied. 'She came later, running, she was crying, and she just picked us both up and kept hugging us.' He got up. 'I'll give her another call; she'll probably be home by now.'

He called her, delighted to hear her answer. She came half an hour later, two hours before the baby. Tony and his father waited outside, joined by Anna who came rushing in, dragging John by the arm. 'Tony, it's great to see you.'

John shook his hand warmly. 'Welcome back. How long have you got?'

'Three weeks, then we're heading back out to the Gulf. I don't know where yet exactly.' He hoped it wouldn't be under General Petersen. All the other officers had treated him decently with the exception of Colonel Burrows in Kuwait, but the colonel had not been personally unpleasant to him, he just wanted a job done and was willing to use any threat to make sure he carried it out. He desperately hoped never to see General Petersen again.

A nurse appeared with a tiny pink bundle. They all crowded round, thrilled. She was passed from one to the other before Tony carried her back. 'Jane, she's gorgeous! I've never seen such a cute baby before. You got a name for her?'

'Sure, she's called Alexandra Jane Manning. What do you think of that?'

Tony grinned down at the tiny bundle in his arms. 'Sounds like an awfully long name for such a tiny thing. I'll call you Sandy,' he told her, stroking her cheek gently with his finger 'and anytime you need something, you just call your Uncle Tony, and he'll go get it for you! Day or night!'

They celebrated with champagne at home, toasting the arrival of the first grandchild, hoping for dozens more. Tony watched Anna and John. He was relieved to see a genuine affection between them as they teased each other ceaselessly. Anna caught him watching her across the table. She laughed merrily. 'Yep, Tony, I'm happy. John's a great guy.'

'I have to be. Your brother threatened to blow my brains into the next world if you ever stopped smiling,' John replied, helping himself to more champagne. Tony heard his mother's gasp and saw his father's amused expression.

'I didn't say that to you, John, and you know it. I said it about….'

'Yeah, we can all guess,' his mother interrupted hurriedly. 'Tony, would you go get that ice-cream cake from the freezer. I think we'll have it now.'

* * *

That had proved the best visit home he had during his military service. He had gone to the hospital every morning to visit Jane and little Sandy, taking her armfuls of new toys. Four days after her birth he drove them home, pausing at the beach. Jane allowed him to carry the baby out to show her the waves for a few minutes, wrapped warmly in her blanket. Tony held her carefully, explaining about the ocean, and promising to take her swimming regularly when she got a little bit older. He placed her back in her capsule, telling Jane she already loved the beach.

Tony shifted restlessly in his corner. He was supposed to take Sandy to Disney World next weekend. He would have picked up Rita's sons at the airport and taken all three children. They had really looked forward to it. Playing favorite uncle was one of the joys of his life; he really adored all the children, though Sandy was his firm favorite. She had to all intents and purposes lost her father through no fault of her own; had nearly lost her mother, and now lost her favorite uncle, the one who took her out to places.

He really was cold, shivering under the blanket. Something was wrong, he never got this cold thinking about Alaska, and he hadn't even been thinking about it for a while now. He felt his forehead, not surprised to find it warm and clammy. It appeared as though his fever was on the rise again. He groaned aloud. The doctor had left nothing for fever as he had none after his cold shower, and by now he seriously doubted whether any guard would bring him anything as innocuous as an aspirin. He pushed the blanket to the side and went to put cold water on his face and arms, drinking a little cold water with difficulty, cupping his aching hands together. Feeling colder by the minute he returned to the corner, propping his head backwards and tucking the blanket round himself. He would think about some warm place next, to take his mind off his shivering.

The steel door opened at the end of the corridor and footsteps approached his cell. The guard who had forced him to remain inside the icy shower walked past, pausing in amazement at the sight that greeted his eyes. He moved over to the bars and banged them with his night stick.

'Prisoner, rise!' Tony moved as slowly as he dared, drawing his knees up to his chest and pushing the blanket to the side. He moved to the middle of the cell and placed his hands behind his back. 'What do you think you're doing, prisoner? That blanket belongs on the bed. You will replace it immediately.' He pointed to the blanket and clicked his fingers.

Tony remained where he was, exhausted. The blanket was heavy, and he had enjoyed its warmth. He really needed it where it was now.

Slowly the guard's face grew red. 'Prisoner, I have waited long enough. I'll put you on report for failing to obey a direct order. Now move that blanket immediately.'

Tony's temper rose. He was already on report for the second time since his punishment, and he really didn't see why the blanket couldn't remain where it was. The floor was at least as clean as the bed, being mopped everyday. He moved back to settle in his corner, drawing the blanket right up to his neck. He closed his eyes, enjoying the guard's stutter of fury.

'Prisoner, get up IMMEDIATELY. I said get up now. Do you hear me, prisoner?' Tony ignored all his instructions, resting, aware there would be consequences to his actions but feeling too angry to care. He wasn't causing any trouble; he had the right to rest where he felt most comfortable. 'PRISONER, GET UP.' Tony pulled the blanket over his head, feeling his heartbeat increasing. His shivers increased as well. He frowned under his blanket. It would never do to be sick for tomorrow.

When he next removed the blanket from his head the corridor in front of his cell was deserted. 'The guard's gone to report me,' he thought, tired of being ordered around the entire day. 'When will they just leave me alone?'


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

'Well, you grumbled enough about the ice cold sea winds, you should be happy now.' Anderson remarked, as the plane approached the runway. Tony strapped himself in and sighed. He had been sitting with the pilots for the past three hours, having found the captain a staunch Cubs fan. Since they had left the sea they had been flying over desert, losing speed and altitude. He peered out, watching the taller sand dunes appear in front of them, looking as innocent as on a beach at home. Suddenly the dunes disappeared from his vision and a red light switched on for the pilots.

'Oh oh, crosswinds.'

'Visibility low. We're flying into another sand storm. Almeida, better go back now and strap yourself in. It'll be quite a landing. Control tower, we have zero visibility…'

'Exactly what you want to hear a pilot say just before landing' Tony thought grimly, leaving the cockpit. The plane shook as the winds buffeted it, raising first the port, then the starboard wings, falling several feet at a time. The engines took on a howling as the plane pulled its nose back up. 'Looks like we're going to circle' Tony shouted over the increasing howl of the engines.

Anderson nodded uneasily. Tony knew him well enough by now to know flying was his least favorite method of transport. They rose slowly, the wings occasionally rising unexpectedly. 'Won't be long' Tony yelled to the back of the plane, encouraging his men. He grinned suddenly as the plane lurched violently.

'What the hell is so amusing, Almeida?' yelled Anderson, above the noise.

Tony shook his head. 'Nothing, sir. Just thinking what kind things General Petersen would have to say about us if he visited our families, if we crash now.'

Anderson's face went an even paler shade. He glared at Tony. The plane completed its circle and pushed its nose down again. 'We're going to attempt a landing,' Tony noted. Through the open cockpit door he could see the pilots battling as they listened to the tower, pulling the undercarriage out. Suddenly they hit the ground hard, bouncing back up for a few seconds before slamming down again and racing forwards, slowing. They emerged to a full blown sand storm, unable to see more than a few feet in front of themselves. Tony supervised them all moving the couple of feet to the bus the base sent out for them.

Once inside they were shown to their new quarters, Tony dumping his things on his bed and hurrying for the officers' rec room to watch the final part of a Cubs game. Seeing the score he grinned broadly. 'That's worth a tough landing, this score. We're winning!'

'I told you I'd get you here to watch the end of the match,' the captain told him.

'Lieutenant Almeida, General Petersen wants to see you in his office,' a young private told him.

Tony nodded, deciding the General could wait for the last five minutes of the match. The Cubs scored again. He finished his beer, told the few officers present that it was obvious they would win all along, and set off to find the General.

General Petersen sat at his desk, speaking on the phone. Tony waited at attention until he replaced the receiver, wandering what the general could want so soon. He tried to ignore his intense dislike of the man, forcing a neutral expression onto his face. 'Lieutenant Almeida, I see you have joined us,' he began, fixing Tony with a cold stare. 'Let me warn you, a repeat of your actions during your last deployment will not be overlooked. There are a number of assignments for snipers; you will obey my instructions to the letter. Any action not directly authorized by myself will be answered for before a military court. Have I made myself clear?'

'Yes sir,' Tony answered automatically, feeling his dislike of the general grow. He was dismissed and ordered to be prepared by 05:00 tomorrow for a mission. Groaning, he went to find Anderson. Captain Anderson nursed a martini at the bar. He shook his head when he saw Tony. 'I already heard all about it, Almeida. I am aware we've only just flown in, but apparently we're needed immediately, so why don't you go prepare the men for an early departure.'

That night Tony lay on his bed, trying and failing to sleep. He missed his family terribly. It was always the same directly after leave - he found himself unable to settle. Rubbing his head, he forced his eyes closed, imagining himself back in his own bed. Why did his leaves always fly past before he could do half the things he had planned?

He awoke exhausted and slightly disoriented from the time difference. Outside the sandstorm had settled - it was already hot. He ate a hurried breakfast and set off to be briefed by his captain. Anderson also looked exhausted as he waved Tony into his office. 'Come in, Almeida. We've received Intel about three hostiles who we are fortunate to find together. They are to be eliminated. Now they are based in a rather remote location, it will require a helicopter drop. Here is the farm house,' he handed Tony a satellite photo, 'and they're inside.'

'How many civilians have we got?' Tony inquired automatically. He frowned at the satellite image, noting the large open space between the building and the first shrubs.

'We have no indication of any possible civilians, however we will advise you before your landing,' Anderson told him. 'We're waiting for the latest satellite images. Good luck, Almeida.'

'Sir,' Tony replied, heading out. He found Koskinen and six of his best snipers prepared in full combat gear. They climbed into the helicopter, flying due south. Sand dunes stretched to the horizon in every direction, casting long shadows behind them. The whole earth appeared red. The sun rose, blinding them, forcing them to turn their heads away.

The helicopter landed, covering them all with a cloud of sand. Long experience made Tony keep his back turned to the blades, a hand over his eyes. The chopper rose again, and the sand settled back.

Tony opened his map. 'We've got about a ten mile hike in that direction,' he said, turning and leading the way. The sun climbed as they walked, turning the world golden. After Alaska everyone felt hotter than usual, so he ordered frequent rest periods, drinking half the contents of his water bottle before they were halfway to their destination. He could only imagine Sergeant Wills comments if he could have seen them. They looked hot and sweaty, and they carried only the barest essentials, rifles, water bottles, and a radio each. Tony carried a larger radio in his backpack that he would use to get his final instructions, and also a first aid kit. He wiped more sweat from his forehead, and rose to his feet. His men followed his example, screwing the caps back onto their bottles.

'Guys, try to save the water,' Tony told them. 'Hopefully we can get some more once we eliminate the hostiles, but for safety's sake let's assume we can't.' They replaced their bottles, falling in line behind him. After another hour of walking over the soft sand they reached the farmhouse. Tony motioned the men to lay low, crawling forward to peer at the surroundings. A low fence built of stone surrounded the single story farmhouse, giving it a yard several miles wide. He adjusted the focus on his binoculars, searching the dry 'garden'. With the exception of a cactus, there was no vegetation of any sort. A movement caught his eye; he moved his binoculars slightly to the right.

Tony swore in Spanish. 'What is it, Sir?' Koskinen inquired, crawling beside him.

'Damn dogs. Three of them. I won't be able to approach the building undetected now.' He chewed his lips thoughtfully. 'It would be a hard shot from here. The window is too small to see through.'

'We could wait till they come out,' Koskinen suggested.

'We're going to have to. If I try and take the dogs out they'll probably hear us. They're chained at regular intervals round the house. It's just so hot to wait around in the sun. We don't even know whether they _will_ all come out.' He sighed in frustration, ordering his men behind a sand dune, into a tiny piece of shade. He made them all drink from their water bottles before sending Koskinen and two others to face the back of the house. Slowly he unpacked his radio, calling Anderson to inform him of the situation.

'Almeida, take your time. It is imperative that you take out those hostiles. Also, newest satellite images indicate a vehicle heading towards your position. Take cover. You'll be informed of the occupants as soon as possible.'

'Yes Sir,' he sighed. He moved to join his men, warning them to lie low and pointing out the spot he wanted them to take. They watched a red jeep rush past, through the gate and into the farm's garden.

Tony grabbed his radio again. 'Sir, do we know who these men are. I might be able to get a shot if the hostiles come out to greet them.'

'Almeida, the car is registered to a known terrorist. General Petersen has new orders for you. You're to take out every man in the car as well as in the building.'

'Yes sir. Is the area clear of civilians?' he asked.

'Almeida, General Petersen says there are no civilians, I repeat, there are no civilians. There are now six militants, take them out.'

'Yes Sir,' Tony replied, switching off the radio. 'We have a go. Koskinen, Peters, Evans and Sanchez, you got the hostiles in the car. The rest of you, cover me.'

They took up positions, watching the car as it pulled up at the farmhouse. He crawled forward, aware his men were behind him, ready to back him up if he missed his shot. He took one final look at the three standing in the doorway and pulled the trigger.

A tiny shape stepped out between the men, reaching up to their knees, carrying a toy plane. 'No!' Tony heard himself scream, leaping to his feet, watching the child crumble to the ground. Years of training took over. He aimed at the remaining men, putting a bullet in each of them, checking the other three targets had been eliminated before running over to the house.

Dizzy with moving so fast in the heat, he crouched beside the child, checking for a pulse. Not finding one, he brushed the boy's hair back and examined the wound. Koskinen laid a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back.

'Straight through his head, sir. He wouldn't have felt a thing.'

Tony remained on the ground, unable to move. He couldn't tear his gaze from the tiny body, still holding the toy in his hand.

'Sir, the mission has been accomplished. You've got to call base and get the chopper,' Koskinen reminded him. Tony remained silent. 'Lieutenant, it's time to go.' He pushed the radio into Tony's hands.

Tony swallowed, sick with guilt. His men gazed back at him silently. 'Captain Anderson, do you read? We eliminated the targets, and one civilian. Who the hell sent us that Intel?'

'What do you mean, Almeida? The general informed me there were three hostiles only in the building.'

'I'll ask the General exactly what the hell that Intel said. I killed one toddler just now. There's no way they would've missed that kid on the satellite images…'

'Almeida, calm down,' Anderson ordered. 'We'll discuss it when you get back. The chopper is leaving now. Bury the kid.'

'Bury the kid,' Tony repeated, staring at the child. Koskinen grabbed a few men and ordered them to find spades and dig a hole, on the double. They disappeared inside, leaving Tony kneeling in the sun.

'Sir, let me take him,' Koskinen told him, lifting up the child. Tony followed wordlessly to the solitary cactus, where a shallow hole had been dug. Koskinen laid the child inside the hole. One of his men lifted a spade and poured the first load of sand on the body.

'Wait,' Tony ordered. He lifted the toy plane and laid it back into the small fingers. 'I'm sorry' he whispered. Koskinen made another sign and the men resumed digging. Tony walked away, gazing out over the desert.

He remained silent during the ride back to the base, leaping out as soon as they touched the ground. Koskinen raced after him. 'Sir, leave the general. Don't ruin your career.'

'I've had _enough_ of my career! That bastard must have known.' Tony pushed open the door and marched inside, seething.

He threw open the door of the general's office, seeing him jump in surprise. 'Why the hell didn't you tell me there was a kid inside that building?' he demanded, clenching his fists. 'Don't try to tell me you didn't know, I_ know_ peoples' body heat registers on your images. You knew _exactly_ how many people there were inside, and you didn't bother to tell me. You're just as guilty of that kid's death as I am.'

'Almeida, hold your tongue this instant. I am not aware of any civilians in that area. As far as I know I sent you to eliminate six hostiles and you've done that. Now get out of here.'

'What,' Tony exclaimed, furiously. 'You're not going to be able to pretend it never happened! Where are those satellite images? I'll make sure…'

The door opened and two soldiers appeared. The general rose. 'Escort Lieutenant Almeida to his quarters. And send Captain Anderson in, on the double.' Tony remained rooted to the spot. 'You're dismissed, Almeida. I hear another comment, you'll regret it.'

'So listen carefully. I resign! I'm going home! I won't take orders from a man who totally disregards civilian life and pretends they never existed in the first place. I…'

One of the soldiers took his arm, forcing him around. He was pushed through the door, and a third soldier closed it behind him. Tony shook the hand off his arm, and marched to his quarters in a silent rage. The soldiers left once he slammed his door shut.

He threw himself on his bed, unable to sort through his own thoughts. An hour later the door opened and Anderson appeared. 'Almeida, come to my office. I want to speak to you.' Tony got up slowly and followed him the short distance to the offices.

'Sit down. I'm not your enemy here. Almeida,' Anderson paused, looking carefully at Tony. 'The general seemed keen to eliminate that target. You did so successfully. He doesn't intend to mention the civilian casualty in his report. You won't either.'

He held up a hand as Tony opened his mouth. 'Silence, Almeida, I haven't finished. If you mention the child, he will make certain you will get blamed for the shooting. Who heard him telling you there were no civilians present?'

Tony gazed at him in silence.

'I thought so. No one heard us on the radio except you. You mention the child, he'll say he warned you of his presence, and you will go down. Trust me on this.' He gazed at Tony sympathetically.

'Think about your decision to resign. You were doing so well, you would have made captain soon.'

Tony shook his head firmly. 'No, it's not for me!'

'Then you'll have to serve this combat tour. After that you're free to leave. I'll miss you. You reconsider, just let me know. Get some rest now.'

Tony got up, exhausted, depressed beyond words. He wrote a detailed mission report without mentioning the child, and typed up his resignation immediately afterwards.

* * *

He served the remainder of his combat tour in Saudi Arabia, counting the days until it was over. He was sent on several undercover missions during his last few months, missions which required near perfect shooting from awkward angles. He completed all of them successfully, returning to base to rest and try to forget about them. The image of the young toddler with the toy haunted his sleep for the remainder of the tour, and for years to come.

He moved restlessly under the blanket. Why was he thinking about that child again? He had tried so hard to forget that dismal day. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Taking care not to move his fingers, he wiped it away, feeling how warm his head was. Damn, he really needed an aspirin.

As if on answer to that last thought, the corridor's door opened and four guards moved towards his cell. 'Prisoner rise and face the wall,' one ordered. He withdrew his night stick and brandished it menacingly. 'Warden's about to complete his report about your behavior. He's waiting to see how you act. You ignore orders; he said to tell you you're going nowhere tomorrow.'

Slowly he rose, picking his blanket up and throwing it back on the bed, before turning to face the wall. He longed to tell them they won, they had their blasted blanket back on the bed, but he knew better than to speak out of turn. The door was unlocked and two guards stepped in. One of them stood between him and the door while the other did something he was unable to see. 'Alright, prisoner, face the door,' he was ordered, as the lock clanged shut. Tony turned, horrified to discover the bed empty. One of the guards held his blanket. 'Warden says that you obviously mistreat prison property, so you won't get to use it tonight. You'll get it back tomorrow.'

They turned to go. Tony remained frozen to the spot, the thoughts whirling through his brain. Michelle's photo lay hidden in that blanket. He had to get it back! He took a step towards the bars, watching them carrying the blanket. 'Give me back the blanket. I'll leave it on the bed now,' he called. None of them glanced back at him as they unlocked the door, carrying the photo away with them.

Tony rubbed his face vigorously, ignoring the protesting pain in his hand. This was purely his fault. Now they had taken the photo, and he had no way of knowing if he'd ever get it back. He sank down into his corner, close to tears. That photo had kept him going until now. What if they discovered it? Or what if they gave him another blanket? He prayed for the same blanket to be returned to him, vowing to take better care of it should be lucky enough to have it returned to him.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

Tony sat at his desk, typing a report on his computer, selecting words thoughtfully. The document would go to Anderson before being sent on to General Petersen, who never failed to find fault with their work. He re-read what he had written, wandering whether the report contained too many or too few details. His eyes moved to the calendar on his desk. Six more weeks until the end of the combat tour and he would leave the marines permanently. After all those years he would go home a civilian, and attempt to make a career with his computer skills. No one would ever again coerce him into going on missions he felt uncomfortable undertaking. A knock distracted him.

'Come in,' he called; deciding the report was written as well as possible.

Peters stepped in nervously. 'Sir, do you have a moment?'

'Sure,' Tony replied, waving his hand at a chair. 'Move those files and take a seat. How can I help you?'

Peters moved two files onto his desk and sat down nervously. 'Well sir, it's the sergeant,' he began tentatively.

'Koskinen?' Tony asked, surprised. 'What's wrong with him?'

Peters remained silent. Tony switched off his computer and turned his full attention to his private. 'Tell me, Peters.'

'Well sir, we were out on the town this morning. You gave us permission, remember, to buy some souvenirs to take home?' Tony nodded. 'After shopping we went to this club where lots of oil workers go, to play pool and check out what else was happening round here. And the sergeant heard some foreigners talking, and he got real mad, and …'

'Koskinen got mad?' Tony looked amazed, never having seen much emotion from his quiet sergeant. 'What did those men talk about?'

Peters shrugged. 'None of us understood a word, sir, they spoke some other language. Anyway, the sergeant just got up and punched one of them and he went spinning over a pool table, and sent a whole load of drinks flying, and then the other one hit him, and he grabbed a cue and smashed it on the counter, and yelled. And then the local police appeared and took him away.'

Tony shook his head; half wishing he had seen it for himself. 'Was he ok?'

'Oh yes sir, he was fine, but the police will be waiting for someone to come for him. We've got an hour until they contact the base, and Sergeant Koskinen always got us out before they could do that.'

'Always' Tony echoed. 'This type of thing happened before?'

'Only a few times, sir. Sergeant Koskinen always paid the money to the local police, and they let us go.'

'I think I'll have a little talk with him,' Tony muttered, amused and irritated at the same time. 'How much money do they expect?'

'$50 for releasing the man.' Tony sighed and opened his drawer, fishing out a $50 note. 'And another $50 for handing over all the paperwork, sir.' Tony shook his head and poked deeper into his desk, fishing out a few $10's. 'Is that all, now?'

'Yes sir, that's what we usually pay. Could you come now?'

Tony got up, and pulled on his uniform jacket he had removed in the heat. The air conditioning had broken down that morning, and he had worked in his shirt, longing to lock his door and remove that too. He wiped his face. 'Do you know the way?'

'Oh yes, sir. It would help if you could get a car.'

Tony requested a car for an hour from the garage at the base, signing it out for "shopping". Peters sat beside him, directing him to the centre of town, showing him where to park. The building was old, built of stone. 'Who do I ask for?' Tony inquired, feeling a little apprehensive. He had never bribed a government employee before, and hoped he would manage to act as expected here.

'The police captain, of course, coz he's in charge,' Peters told him.

'Ah, Peters, what do I do when I get to him? When do I hand over the money?'

Peters regarded him with the expression his mother used to throw him when he hadn't been able to locate his school bag in the morning. 'Sir, you go in, ask for the captain, go to his office, and sit down. Then you will listen to him talk, and accept a little coffee. It'll take about an hour.'

'_An hour_' he cried. 'I'm not sure what to discuss for so long.'

'No, sir, he will talk, you just have to listen and agree. Then he'll broach the subject of the prisoner, and you'll apologize, and pay him. It's simple.'

Tony nodded and took a deep breath, walking up the stairs of the building. He couldn't help casting a nervous glance around, relieved to see no Westerners present. He found himself inside a large tiled lobby, dim and cool. A clerk gazed at him, swatting flies. Tony waved the flies from his own face and went to stand in front of the window, waiting to be noticed. Eventually the clerk glanced up from his newspaper. Tony asked to see the police captain. The clerk gazed at him in silence. Tony waited, unsure how to proceed. 'The captain isn't in his office right now. Someone would have to find him.' He held his hand through the hole in the glass. Tony pulled his wallet from his pocket and handed him $10, hoping it would be a sufficient sum. Hopefully this guy would locate the captain soon, or he would be unable to give him his $100.

The clerk gazed at his palm in silence, making no movement. Finally Tony handed him another $5, and the clerk sighed heavily. 'I'll go to look. You wait here.' Tony thanked him and wandered round the dim lobby, wandering idly if it was dim on purpose. He waited by himself until the clerk arrived, telling him the captain had just returned. Tony nodded as though he believed it and followed him up a flight of stairs, along a corridor overlooking the lobby and into a large office.

A short fat man with a mustache rose to greet him, throwing him a huge smile while he took in his uniform. 'Lieutenant, good morning,' he said pleasantly. 'Sit down.' He waved a hand at a black leather chair. Tony settled in it, wandering sarcastically how much money the captain had made from them, to recognize his rank instantly. He felt hot in his jacket, longing to remove it, but noticed that the captain was impeccably dressed. He would just have to sweat it out.

'It's warm today,' the captain began, smiling all over his face. 'A lot warmer than in the States, I imagine. Where do you come from, Lieutenant?'

'LA' Tony replied, giving in to the urge to unbutton his jacket. Hadn't the captain heard of fans, he wandered unhappily?

'Ah, a lovely city,' said the captain. 'Can I offer you a cold drink, lieutenant, you look hot.'

Tony accepted gratefully, delighted to be spared a hot drink. He drank his orange juice quickly, wishing he would be offered a second glass. The captain watched him carefully. 'Should I order a jug of juice?' he asked. Tony nodded, and poured himself another glassful.

'And how long have you been in the Kingdom?' inquired the captain, pleasantly. Tony explained that he had been there for a while, but had served at home and only just returned. The captain told him cheerfully that he himself was from the capital, and had come to the town to take the post of police captain. He spoke of the football team while Tony glanced at his watch, wandering how soon Anderson would miss his report and walk in to scold him. Technically he was on duty, and had failed to log a destination, both of which would get him yelled at later. He wished he knew how to interrupt the captain's cheerful monologue.

'And with the new road laid up to the highway, it is possible to arrive an hour sooner…' the captain said, as Tony poured the last of the juice into his glass. Evidently the captain wasn't expecting any more visitors that day, and had decided he would just have to make do with a lowly lieutenant. The leather chair felt hot under him. Tony found himself slipping downwards and pulled himself up hurriedly, sitting straighter, glancing at his watch. He had been there an hour and half already, and the captain showed no sign of letting him leave.

'And how many brothers have you got?' he asked. Tony explained that he came from a large family and had three brothers and four sisters. The captain looked impressed, and settled into a detailed explanation of his own family.

Tony resigned himself to being scolded and confined to quarters upon his return and settled in to listen. His eyes rested on the empty jug, willing the captain to order a second one. Outside the traffic flowed along the busy street, occasional truck fumes blown up by the breeze. Tony picked up the empty jug and poured the remaining handful of drops into his glass. The captain paused, ringing his bell, and ordered a second jug from a young policeman. He poured them a glass each.

They discussed the last Olympic Games, and when that topic had been exhausted and Tony had accepted the possibility of remaining until lunch, the captain startled him by asking what had brought him there that morning. Remembering Peters' advice Tony apologized profusely for wasting the time of such an important dignitary, but kindly requested the return of his sergeant, apologizing again for the trouble he had caused. The captain looked pained, explaining that the US base liked to be notified of any trouble caused by their men, and the paperwork was almost complete.

'I'm so sorry, captain, being such a nuisance, but I need Sergeant Koskinen by the afternoon,' Tony explained. 'What with your paperwork, and our paperwork, it would take a lot longer than that. I wander if I could just take your paperwork,' he felt inside his pocket, producing his wallet.

'It would be a sad thing, delaying the US military,' the captain agreed, watching Tony count out his $100. 'Yes, lieutenant, I could hand you the paperwork directly, so you could hand it in to the appropriate authorities on the base. The thing is, your sergeant caused a lot of damage. I am forced to prosecute him.'

'How much did the damage amount to?' Tony asked, knowing he hardly had anything left in his wallet.

The police captain regarded him with a sly expression. '$200. For the broken cues, broken glasses, and the clean up bill. The base will take care of it, Lieutenant Almeida.'

'Ah, I'm sure they would; only I really haven't got that kind of time. We're due on maneuvers later this afternoon,' Tony lied. He could only imagine the kind of trouble facing anyone accused of such a lot of damage. Koskinen deserved to leave the army with a clean record. He had helped him often enough, during missions and had almost certainly saved his life in Alaska. Tony made up his mind that Koskinen _would_ leave the army with a clean record, whatever it took.

He gazed up at the captain who watched him carefully. 'I don't have this kind of money on me right now, sir. I'll have to go back and get it.' He wandered how he could ask the man to hang onto his sergeant for another hour.

The captain seemed to understand his dilemma. 'Our fax has broken down today, lieutenant. Such a pity, of course. It would take at least two hours to repair it.'

'The bastard is giving me two hours to go fetch more money,' Tony thought in disgust. He pulled a smile onto his own face. 'I'd be back before that. If you could have your paperwork ready by then…'

The captain's smile broadened. 'It should be ready by then, lieutenant.'

Tony hurried out of the building, finding Peters standing under a tree, hot and sweaty. 'Sir, where have you been? I was getting worried you were arrested yourself.' Tony shook his head, explaining what had happened as they drove back through the traffic. 'He's charging you extra because you're an officer,' Peters exclaimed. 'Are you going to pay him?'

'Sure' Tony replied. 'I don't have much choice, do I?' He frowned as they drove up to the gates of the base. 'Peters, I'm going to go withdraw some money from the ATM. Could you take a look to check whether you see Captain Anderson around?'

Peters looked at him, giving a grin before nodding. 'Yes sir.' He left, whilst Tony was cornered by the garage pool sergeant, demanding the car back.

'Listen, sergeant, I'm real sorry my shopping took a little longer than expected,' Tony told him, hoping to placate the man, 'but you can imagine how it was. I really need the car again in ten minutes.'

'Sir, a Captain Anderson called me when he saw you'd taken a car. He was very specific about my telling you he wanted to see you right away when you got back. There's no way I could lend you the car again, anyway. It's the only one left, and Colonel Bentley has asked for it.'

Tony shook his head in despair, promising to see Anderson. He saw Peters beckoning to him. 'It's ok, sir, the captain is watching TV in the rec room,' he said. Tony thanked him and hurried to the ATM, withdrawing $300, just in case the police captain decided more money was needed for something, and returned to Peters.

'Peters, go join the men. I'm ok from here. I'll have to catch a ride to town somehow, and go pay the captain. You haven't seen me, ok?' Peters nodded. Tony left on foot through the gate, to the amazement of the guard on sentry duty.

He wandered along the highway, wandering how he could get a lift. The two hours he had been given would be up long before he could walk to town. Sweat poured down his face, leaving streaks in the dust blown there by the passing cars. Presently a truck stopped for him. An American oil worker leaned out. 'You've got a long walk ahead of you. Want a ride.' Tony nodded and climbed in, being dropped off just two blocks from the police station. He rushed up the stairs, wiping his face in the sleeve of his jacket, unaware he smudged more dust around. He told the clerk the captain was expecting him. The clerk informed him that the captain was out at lunch, he would be back shortly. Tony was asked to sit and wait in the lobby on a hard wooden bench in the darkest corner.

He stared at his watch in despair. It was now half past two in the afternoon, and he had first left the base around ten in the morning. His report was due in by ten thirty. Anderson would be livid. This would certainly be the last time he would get to leave the base. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, rubbing his face as he thought through a dozen different excuses for his absence, discarding each of them.

Shortly after three the captain returned, smiling at Tony. 'Have you been waiting long, lieutenant? Come upstairs.' Tony followed him upstairs to his office, so thirsty he accepted another orange juice the moment it was offered. 'Our paperwork is ready now,' he said. He handed a typewritten sheet in Arabic to Tony, and took the $200.

'Is that it?' Tony asked, slightly disconcerted.

'Yes, yes, you have an interpreter who can translate the document,' the captain told him, smiling again. 'Ah, you need a stamp, of course,' and he placed an official looking patch at the bottom of the paper. 'Now you can take your sergeant.' He rang the bell again and the same young policeman arrived. They spoke in Arabic, and he left. A minute later Koskinen was led in.

Tony threw him a stern glance. 'I'm sorry for the trouble he caused, captain,' he apologized again, bidding farewell to him. 'Come on, Koskinen, let's go.' They wandered outside the police station, Koskinen following him silently. 'Now we get a nice long walk back to base,' Tony said sarcastically. 'Unless you can think of some other way we can get back.'

Koskinen regarded him in silence, before nodding. 'I know some oil workers who live real close. We could ask them to drive us back, Sir.' Tony nodded. He desperately longed to clean himself up before apologizing to Captain Anderson.

'Almeida,' Anderson's voice cut across the corridor, as he crept towards his quarters. 'A word, if you please. On the double.'

Tony groaned aloud, following him back down the corridor and into his office. Anderson gazed at him in silence, leaving him standing in the middle of the room. 'Where the devil have you been, lieutenant?' he asked quietly. 'The sergeant at the car pool informed me he passed my message to you at 12.30. It's now 16:00. And look at you! If I saw a private with such dusty boots, filthy trousers and smudged face he'd be on KP the rest of the month! You're supposed to be an officer.' Tony waited for his sentence in silence. 'Almeida, I'm waiting. Don't give me any crap about shopping; I want to know _exactly_ where you've been.'

'Shopping, Sir,' Tony answered mildly.

Anderson nodded. 'Very well, Almeida. Let's see, what have we got. An unauthorized trip off base, a refusal to report to a superior when summoned, a second unauthorized trip, it's not looking too good, is it?' Tony chewed his lip. 'Go to your quarters, Almeida. If I see you so much as opening your door until I say so, I'll report the entire incident and it _will_ go into your record!'

Tony returned to his room, showering off the grime and pulling on a clean uniform. He lay on his bed, listening to his rumbling stomach. Apart from breakfast, he had eaten nothing all day. He closed his eyes firmly. He would ignore his hunger and go to sleep, and hope he would be permitted breakfast in the morning. Sleep, however, eluded him. Just as he searched through his backpack hoping to find some candy from the airplane trip he heard a knock.

Koskinen stood outside in the corridor with one of his men, holding plates. He beckoned them in silently. They placed a steaming plate of shepherd's pie on his bed, and a plate of cream cake with some cherries. Koskinen handed him a bottle of beer. 'Mess sergeant always bakes himself a cake, Sir. He never eats the last few slices. Whoever got KP smuggles it out.'

'The mess sergeant bakes cakes for himself?' Tony exclaimed, remembering the hours he'd spent at KP, scrubbing burned pots and peeling sacks full of potatoes and carrots. He shook his head, amused. He'd been here almost a year, and he would never have known.

* * *

He flew home six weeks later, having completed two quiet patrols close to the border. Anderson shook his hand, wishing him success in the future. On the final night they held a party in the barracks which he attended, thanking all his men for their efforts, wishing them success in the future, and handing them a present each.

'You guys were great. We saw some tough places together; we met some real bastards out there. We all made it. Here's to the same success for the rest of our lives.' They clinked their glasses, drinking to the future. Several more toasts were drunk - to beautiful girlfriends, great jobs, health. Tony handed them his parents' address, telling them if ever they needed anything in the future he could help with, he would be glad to. He watched them party, leaving shortly afterwards to enable them to let loose, knowing he would have a hangover the following morning.

He would miss them, he knew, as the plane gathered speed and left the runway.

His mother waited for him at the airbase, giving him a huge hug as he appeared with his bags. She had Sandy with her. Tony laid his bags down and picked the toddler up, grinning hugely. 'Wow, princess, you've grown. They sure change in a year, mom.'

After spending a month at home, being fussed over by every member of the family he drove down to Mexico to stay with his grandfather. He was touched to find his bed was still made up, his favorite mug laid on the table on the verandah.

'Well, Tony, you've heard all my stories by now. It's your turn.' That night they sat together on the verandah, drinking wine while he recounted all he could of the war and the subsequent years in the desert, of oil fields burning, letting out solid black smoke into the sky, to oil spills on the sea, to being buried alive in the explosion, to boring desert patrols. He spoke of his shore leave and the peace he had found on the tiny island of Gozo, and of howling gales and blizzards. The sun rose on the story telling.

'You've seen a lot, Tony, too much,' his grandfather said softly. 'I don't think it will be easy for you to settle back into a quiet life. It might be alright during the day, but it will come back to you at night. Be patient. Slowly it will fade. Maybe in a couple of years you can find a wife, have some children. Don't rush it yet.' Tony had nodded, understanding.

Restlessly he rose from his corner. His grandfather had proved to be right, as usual. He had struggled adjusting back to civilian life, despite an excellent job. And his advice about waiting to find a wife had _certainly_ paid off. Tony knew without a doubt that he had found the love of his life in Michelle. She was more than just a wife, she was his best friend too, the only one he trusted with his life. He would see her in another ten hours or so.


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

The sun shone down on them as they worked together, digging the trench. Tony placed a final piece of driftwood at the top, sticking a piece of ice-cream paper through it. He sat back to examine his work critically. If he was honest, it did bear a faint resemblance to the fort he had helped capture. 'You want to bring a little more wet sand, princess?' he asked his niece.

The child jumped to grab her bucket, running down to the water, colliding with a man leaving the ocean with a surf board. 'Sorry,' he called.

Tony glanced up. He stared at the man for a moment, wandering where he had seen him before. The man glanced at the fort. 'That's a good castle you got there,' he told Sandy.

'It's not a castle, it's a 'pregnable fortress' she corrected him. 'My uncle Tony captured it. He switched off all the 'puters and got in.'

The man's eyes changed, they smiled at Tony. 'Lieutenant Almeida. It's been a long time.' He smiled down at the child. 'I remember the occasion well; I was inside the fort, defending it!'

Tony got up, brushing the sand off his knees. 'Captain Bauer. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you without your uniform.'

'I left the Rangers now, Almeida; I'm not a captain anymore. What about you?'

'I left the Marines two years ago also,' Tony replied. 'I'm a civilian now.'

'So what are you doing with yourself?' Jack inquired, laying down the surf board.

Tony shrugged. 'I worked for a computer company as a systems validation analyst for a while.'

'Uncle Tony quit,' Sandy announced, cheerfully. 'He couldn't bear to live so far away from me, and mummy, and grandma and grandpa, and everyone else. My daddy says if he doesn't find another job soon he'll end up being a bum, but…'

'Sandy, honey, why don't you go and open my bag. I've got a lollipop for you in the side pocket,' Tony told her, watching her run away squealing. He chewed his lip for a while and glanced up at the captain. 'I'm just enjoying the summer at the moment.'

Captain Bauer nodded. 'Of course. Listen, I've got to run, my wife is expecting me home. It was nice seeing you again, Almeida.'

'You too, sir' Tony said, watching him walking up the beach with the board. He sighed quietly. The last three months had been rather miserable, spent applying for dozens of jobs, and getting nowhere. It had to get better after the summer, he hoped. He gazed at the blue ocean stretching as far as the horizon. It always cheered him up. Things would just have to work out, and in the meantime his parents were thrilled to have him home.

'Uncle Tony, you want a bit of lollipop?' Sandy asked, holding it out to him.

'Sure' he said, licking it, smiling at her. 'You want another quick swim after this before we go home?' She nodded, sitting on his knee, demanding he tell her the story of his capture of the fortress again. He smiled and explained it as easily as he could to the three year old.

That evening they ate dinner outside on the veranda, under the colorful lights Sandy insisted they switch on. A gentle breeze blew through the garden. 'Tomorrow will be another great beach day. Wind's right,' remarked Tony. 'So if you want me to take you swimming, princess, you'll have to go bed now.'

Sandy pouted. 'No, not yet. Grandpa, I don't have to go yet, do I? Grandma?' She burst into tears. 'I won't go.'

'Honey, your mom will say we spoilt you,' Tony's mother told her. 'I'll put you to bed.'

'No no no' Sandy screamed, climbing onto her grandfather's lap. 'Grandpa has to tell a story first. A long story.'

Mr. Almeida laid down his wine glass, amused by her persistence. 'Well, let's do it then. And then you'll have to go to bed, or your mom won't leave you with us when she goes on holiday again. What shall it be?'

'I wanna hear about when Uncle Tony and mommy were naughty,' Sandy said, bouncing up and down on his knee.

'Honey, you'll have to be a little more specific. They were naughty all the time,' he said, grinning at Tony.

'At the beach,' she said.

'Ah,' her grandfather said, smiling. 'I've got the perfect story. Now your Grandma's mom bought Tony and Janey small surf boards, and…'

'I don't think I want to hear this,' Tony exclaimed, amused, getting up to lean against the veranda's pillar, with his wine glass.

'I do' Joey and Maria insisted.

'Well, as I said, Great Grandma bought junior surf boards for Uncle Tony and mommy, and round about that same time I got the offer of a beach house for a week from a colleague at work. We never had such a chance before so we took it, even though your grandma was just weeks away from giving birth to your aunt Anna. It was a lovely house, its garden opened onto a quiet beach, and the kids swam there all day, and tried out their new boards. I had to run up and down after Marco and Rita all day, so I told Tony and Janey to swim only in the shallow water, close to the shore. And your mommy was good, she did as she was told, but Uncle Tony,' he grinned at his son, 'decided to go find some real big waves, so he paddled out somehow beyond the small breakers and got caught in this large wave…'

'It was MASSIVE' Tony interrupted

'And somehow managed to fall off his board. He could already swim quite well for a seven year old, and he managed to stay afloat somehow, while I ran like mad to get into the water to pull him out. I got to him ok, but the waves had taken the board further out to sea. I left it, pulling your uncle back to shore. And I told him…'

'You told me to wait till we got home that night, you'd deal with me there,' Tony said. 'So that day was totally ruined. No cool board and an angry father waiting to punish me at home.'

'I put Uncle Tony in the corner, facing the wall, and didn't let him watch any cartoons that afternoon,' Mr. Almeida continued. 'And then after dinner we all went to bed, and in the morning Janey, your mommy, woke us real early, asking if the waves were big that day. I couldn't get her to go back to bed, so I had to get up and check through the door with her. The wind was up, and they were massive. I said 'sure they're huge, there's no swimming today, we'll do something else instead', and she began to cry. I put her in bed with us, but she wouldn't settle, and about an hour later she asked could Tony swim in this and I said 'no way', and she told me he'd gone out to look for the board. I just threw my clothes on and ran as fast as I could the way she pointed, leaving grandma with all the younger children. And I prayed to God to protect my child till I could find him.'

Tony stared at his father astonished, never having considered it from an adult point of view before. 'Sorry, Papa. I really wanted to find that board, coz I knew you weren't going to get me another one. I decided I'd go look for it tomorrow while I was in the corner. And I told Janey, and she promised she wouldn't tell a soul.'

'Thank God she did. Anyway, your uncle did go the right way, the way the waves were moving along the shore. As we left the sheltered bay the water got rougher all the time, huge waves, and I just kept going, checking the beach and the water, seeing nothing.' Mr. Almeida had to pause, taking a large sip of wine.

'I got to some small cliffs, and I went to the edge to look out, and there, along some reefs, I saw the board,' Tony said. 'I was real glad coz I was pretty tired walking so far. I decided to climb down to get to the reef. The cliff was real close to the ocean and the waves kept showering me with spray, but I wasn't going to leave the board. I started climbing down, and about half-way I got stuck. I couldn't go any further down, so I tried climbing up, but I couldn't do that either.'

'And that's where I found him' Mr. Almeida said. 'I saw this cliff so I just decided to look out quickly, not really expecting Tony could have walked so far. I saw the board first.' He shook his head, taking another drink. 'I nearly cried. Then I stared down at the water, and I saw Tony on this ledge, just a couple of feet from really rough waves, trying to climb down. I helped him up, and then I had to go down for the board. I knew he'd just go again the next day if I didn't.'

'And you were so glad to find Tony that you didn't even spank him,' Tony's mother said, giving another spoonful of dinner to Sandy.

'Sure he did,' Tony exclaimed. 'Right there, on the beach! Hard, too. But I still got the board.' He grinned at his father.

'Tony, honey, Maria's staying with friends at a party tonight; I'd like to take her with your father. We'll be right back. Can I leave you with the dishes?'

'Yeah' he agreed. 'Bye Maria, have fun.' He began collecting the dishes while his mother quickly put Sandy to bed. They drove out, and he filled the sink with water. 'Are you up again?' he asked cheerfully, hearing Sandy tiptoe into the kitchen.

'I wanna drink' she whined. Tony poured her some juice and helped her to sit on the bar stool.

'You're never going to be up in the morning' he teased. 'I might just have to go swimming alone.' He poured washing up liquid into the sink and began the first plate. The phone rang. 'Damn' he exclaimed. 'Phone always rings when you really can't get to it'

'I'll go,' Sandy said, and before he could reach her she was off the stool and into the living room. She returned just as he was wiping his hands.

'Who was it?'

'I don't know. Some man. He wanted to speak to you. I told him you're washing up now and you can't come, and he shouldn't call at such a bad time.'

Tony sighed. A call at eight o'clock in the evening was hardly likely to be one he hoped for. What he really needed was a call offering him a job. 'I guess if someone wants something they'll call later,' he said.

'He said he'd call back in an hour.'

Tony put her back to bed and finished the dishes, picking up a book. His parents returned soon, and his father went to the kitchen to make coffee for them. A minute later he put his head in. 'We're out of milk. I'll keep the coffee hot and go get some.'

'I'll go, Papa, it'll save taking the car out again,' Tony said, welcoming a walk. The evening was really pleasant and the shop was only ten minutes walk away. It was really good being home again, he thought as he walked by himself. He'd been so lonely working so far from them all.

'Here's the milk, Papa,' he said, handing him the bottle.

'Tony, someone called,' his mother told him, taking her coffee. 'He wanted to talk to you. His name was Jack. I said you'd be back in a few minutes, you're just at the shop.'

'Thanks mom. Who's Jack?' he asked, puzzled. His mother shook her head. 'Oh well, let's have the coffee anyway.' They watched a police serial on the TV after which Tony's mother said goodnight. He went upstairs soon after, feeling tired from a long swim. He pulled out some clean clothes and entered the shower, enjoying the stream of hot water. A knock distracted him. 'Yep.'

'Tony, there's someone on the phone for you. Someone called Jack. I said you're in the shower, but he seemed a little impatient.'

'It's ok, Papa, I'm done.' He threw a towel round himself and went downstairs, taking the phone. 'Hi'.

'Almeida, you're not an easy man to reach. I'm Jack Bauer.'

'Captain Bauer, I'm sorry,' Tony exclaimed. 'What can I do for you?'

'You're looking for a job in computing, am I right? I have one you might be interested in. Meet me tomorrow at CTU. Do you know where that is?'

'I'm sorry, I don't even know _what_ it is,' Tony said honestly.

'Counter Terrorist Unit. Are you still interested?'

'Sure' he replied, intrigued.

'Then meet me at 10:00 o'clock.'

Tony thanked him and hung up, turning to find his father. 'Papa, guess what. That was Captain Bauer, I met him just after the academy when we had war games, and I ran into him today at the beach and he remembered me, and I've probably got a job.'

'That's great' his father exclaimed, relieved. 'We were worried you'd go away again if you didn't get anything here.'

'Papa, I'm _never_ going away again,' Tony said firmly.

He woke up early the next morning, excited. He waited impatiently for the time to pass so he could get going, too nervous to settle down to anything. Both parents assured him he would do well. He wished he could believe them.

Jack was waiting for him as he entered the glass doors and gave his name to the guard at the desk. 'Come in,' he said, leading Tony across the floor where dozens of people worked, and up a staircase. 'Sit down.'

Tony sat in a comfortable chair and looked out over the employees. Jack had a perfect view, he thought, he could check on anyone without their knowing about it.

'Now let's see what you have been doing since we last met,' Jack said, opening a file. 'Most of this stuff's classified; we had to get it from the military. You went on several covert missions in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait; all performed well, all targets eliminated. You did disobey specific orders once and lead a covert mission into Yemen to rescue a few sailors held hostage, your brother among them. You were saved by your commanding officer, a captain Anderson insisting he authorized the mission. Did he?' Jack paused to regard him.

Tony shifted uncomfortably in the chair. 'Who's going to know my answer?'

'Only me' Jack replied.

'No, he knew nothing about it. He was a decent guy; he saved me from a possible court martial.'

'You're honest,' Jack told him. 'I figured as much. Now afterwards you are listed as two hours late from shore leave by the captain of the USS Armstrong, which incidentally was not listed by this Captain Anderson. After this incident you spent six months defending a small base in the Bering Sea. Shortly after you arrived we have an incident where you chased a Japanese fishing trawler out of our waters, an unauthorized undertaking if ever there was one.'

Tony stirred uneasily. No one had ever mentioned the incident to him. Jack actually grinned at him. 'Relax. By the time our man in the Russian Air Force handed over the footage, you were back in Saudi Arabia. You went on several covert missions there, resigning after a successful elimination of six hostiles.' He closed the file. 'Want to tell me what made you quit after that particular mission?'

Tony took a deep breath, getting out of the chair. He paced restlessly back and forth. 'We got orders that there would be three hostiles inside a house on a farm. Just before we got there I radioed base to get them to double check their satellite images, make sure no one else was there. I was told the house contained only the three hostile males. Just like with every mission I posted my men round the farm, and then I approached the house and took position. They had some dogs; I couldn't get too close for fear of attracting their attention, so I waited till I got a chance to take them all out. They went outside to the car, and I pulled the trigger, and then the door opened and this little kid stepped out.' Tony buried his head in his hands. 'I killed him. It's not listed there,' he waved a hand at the folder, 'coz no one considered it important then either.' He paced the office, wishing he hadn't come. He had struggled with forcing that memory from his mind for two years now. 'I couldn't do it anymore.'

'Collateral damage, it happens,' Jack told him.

'Not to me, it doesn't. He was only about two years old. I guess I'm not the guy you're looking for.'

'Sit down, Tony,' Jack said, waving back to the chair. 'You're exactly the guy we're looking for.'

* * *

Tony wet his head, feeling his fever had stopped rising. It was high, but not dangerously so. He could keep it under control until the morning, when experience taught him it would go down. He returned to lie on his bed, pulling the thin sheet over himself.

Today had been without doubt the worst day of his life. There had been other bad days, plenty of them, in fact, but he had always been part of a group, always had someone to back him up. Even during a few hair rising adventures with CTU he had known he would be ok if he could only hold on until he was rescued. He was alone now, held in custody by his own nation, accused of willfully betraying every man, woman and child. "What you did, Tony, is punishable by the death penalty. You committed treason."

Treason! The word reverberated through his head, refusing to be blocked out. Tony sat up again, gazing through the bars at the dim corridor. If only he could somehow undo the past he would start with that day. 'No thanks, Jack,' he muttered to himself. 'I'm _definitely_ not the guy you're looking for. I lack your detachment. I couldn't watch Michelle get hurt. Pick someone else.'


	30. Chapter Thirty

Tony pushed open the glass door and walked into CTU, pausing before a counter where a security guard sat. He was handed a badge and an access card, and asked to try it out. It worked perfectly, admitting him inside. The office he entered was fairly quiet, most people not yet having arrived to begin the day shift. He stood near the door, wandering where he was supposed to go.

'You must be Tony Almeida,' a woman told him, stepping forward to greet him. 'I'll show you to your desk. I'm Nina Myers; you'll be working under me.'

He nodded, following her past several desks until they reached one almost directly opposite the metal staircase that led up to Jack's office. He sighed inwardly, having hoped for a quiet desk somewhere out of the way. Sitting in such an exposed position would make it impossible to play any games during quiet times. It would evenbe hard to get a few emails written to friends. He laid his briefcase on the desk.

'Tony, I've got a few forms for you to fill out today, mainly background information,' Nina told him. 'You'll have to swear an oath of confidentiality and pledge to defend the nation when you're done, and you'll have to sign that. After that Jack will give you your security clearance. It'll take most of the day.'

'That's ok,' he replied. He settled at the desk, opening a few forms. They were long and required detailed biographical data. It would take him most of the day to answer them. 'Do you have a coffee machine around?' he asked, as Nina prepared to leave him.

'Sure' she said, and showed him into a small kitchen. Tony thanked her and watched her leave, noting how professional she sounded. She was attractive too. He wandered what working for her would be like.

The coffee inside the machine smelt good. He hunted round the kitchen, locating dozens of mugs on a shelf. They appeared to be available to all. Tony examined them swiftly. Most were plain; some having pictures of dogs or cats. He pushed past a few flowery ones and selected a plain brown one, resolving to bring his own mug the next day. He would keep it on his desk, just above the computer, and he would bring a photo in too.

Carrying his mug back to his desk, he noticed more people filing in. They chatted a few minutes before moving over to their workstations. He wandered idly what so many people were monitoring. Sipping his coffee, he answered the first form, which concentrated on his military experience. Some of the questions required great detail; others were complex, forcing him to read them several times.

'Hey Tony, how are coping?' Jack inquired, strolling past his desk.

'Ok. I'd do a lot better if I had the memory of a computer. I've got to guess at some of these dates.'

Jack nodded. 'Nobody can expect you to remember every mission accurately, Tony. It's a memory test as much as anything else. Take your time and answer honestly. It will be checked against your military records.'

Tony nodded, turning the page. He sipped his coffee, frowning in concentration. He ate his sandwich at lunchtime still completing forms, pausing to get himself more coffee. So far the day had been disappointingly boring. Nina came to check on his progress as he rubbed the weariness from his face.

'Nearly done, Tony?' she asked him.

'Yeah, almost.'

'Good, then I'll let Jack know. He'll have to take you over to Division so you can sign your oath.'

'What's that?' he asked, enjoying her company.

'They're responsible for CTU. Better finish now, Tony.'

Tony completed the last form and carried them over to her. 'All done now.'

'Thanks. Jack will take you in ten minutes. You may switch your computer on, in the meantime. You won't be able to access anything classified yet.'

Jack came to collect him a few minutes later. Tony followed him out through the back of CTU, to the large car park. They settled into Jack's SUV.

'How come everyone is making such a big deal out of this oath? I already swore one, when I joined the marines. I haven't forgotten it, you know.'

'I know, so did I, but we all have to swear again. This is slightly different. You'll get to see Intel the military will never know about. It's essential that you keep silent about your work.' He gazed sharply at Tony.

Tony nodded. 'I know.'

They arrived at Division, a larger building than CTU. Jack led him inside, showing his card to the guard. Tony was given a visitor's pass. He couldn't shake his apprehension as he followed Jack across the floor and up the stairs. 'Now then, Tony, these guys you'll meet are my superiors. They are _far_ above you. They will expect to be treated with the utmost respect. Try to picture them as generals in the army. They might ask you a few questions, don't let it bother you.'

Tony nodded, taking a deep breath as Jack knocked on a door. 'Come' called a nasally voice and they entered a large office, greeted by a man with thinning hair.

'Good afternoon, Mr. Chappelle,' Jack greeted him. 'This is Tony Almeida, our new agent.'

'Good afternoon, sir,' Tony said. Chappelle nodded in his direction, looking him over from head to toe. Tony examined him in turn, the way he had been taught in the military, keeping his eyes straight, noting the surroundings out of its corners. Chappelle seemed a man fascinated by paperwork, a bureaucrat's bureaucrat. Tony felt relieved he would not see the man at CTU.

The door opened again, to admit a medium sized man, slightly over weight with the expression of a bulldog. 'Mr. Hammond, sir, this is our newest agent. He's here to take his oath,' Jack said.

Hammond looked Tony over with disdain, much as a drill sergeant glanced at a private who would certainly fail to perform a maneuver. Tony fought down his antipathy, surprised at his strong emotions towards a man he had only just met. 'You served in the Marines, Almeida?' he said. The question came out sounding more like an accusation.

'Yes sir, for eight years.'

'You obey every order you were given?' His glance penetrated deep into Tony's eyes, pulling secrets from the furthest corner of his brain. Tony shifted uncomfortably.

'Yes, sir,' he replied, a fraction of a second too late.

'Hm' muttered Hammond. 'What do you think, Ryan? Should we give him a polygraph test?'

'Well, if you think it would be useful,' Chappelle replied.

'Mr. Hammond, I hardly think its necessary,' Jack began, seeing Tony's look of distress. 'I've checked his records; he seems to verify all we know about him accurately.'

'Jack, it won't take long. Better to be safe than sorry.' Hammond got up, and they all followed him back down the stairs. Tony hung his head, deeply worried. Whatever would they ask him about? He searched his brain for POW situations they had been taught about in the academy. They had been told it was highly unlikely they would face a polygraph, however, if they did, they should keep as calm as possible. Well, he would fail miserably then, he reflected. He took several deep breaths to calm himself.

They entered what resembled an interrogation room, and Tony was told to sit in a chair and relax. Jack nodded encouragingly, pulling a chair beside him. 'Don't let it throw you, Tony, it's just a short test,' he said. Tony's heart beat rapidly as he watched two tubes placed round his stomach and chest, a blood pressure cuff attached to his arm, and two fingerplates attached to two of his fingers. A laptop was opened, attached to all these wires. He was given his first few questions to establish a pattern. He was asked about his name and place of birth, and then given some questions which required a negative answer.

'Ok, Tony we're beginning now. Did you serve eight years in the Marines?'

'Yes,' he said, hoping the rest of the questions would be as simple.

'You fought in the Gulf War. Did you take any unnecessary risks at any time during combat?'

'No,' he answered, watching their faces. They seemed satisfied with his answers so far.

'Would you sacrifice the lives of your men to gain a significant advantage in a combat situation?'

'I'd go myself,' Tony said, watching frowns appear on Hammond's face.

'Please answer "yes" or "no", Almeida,' the technician told him. The question was repeated.

'No,' he said shortly.

He noticed Hammond and Chappelle glance at each other. He wandered whether the test had shown anything, or if it was only his answer that displeased them.

'Did you at any time receive orders you strongly disagreed with?'

'Yes,' he answered without hesitation.

'Did you carry out those orders despite your personal misgivings?'

'Yes,' he answered, remembering being sent to deal with the terrorist in Kuwait in his own home. But wait, his brain reminded him. He had also been ordered to ignore the captive sailors' plight. He had ignored that order. The readings on the laptop rose significantly. All four men glanced at him. His heart sank.

'Almeida, I'll repeat the question. "Did you carry out every order you received despite misgivings."'

Tony moved his head restlessly, attempting to check the readings. The technician reminded him to keep his face turned the other way.

'Almost always, yes,' he said softly.

'Almeida, for the last time, answer the question with a "yes" or "no" only,' Hammond snapped.

'No,' he admitted softly, watching Jack, Hammond and Chappelle stare at him.

'Question him about that,' Hammond insisted, silencing Jack's protests. 'I want to know what kind of man we're employing, Jack. He's just lied about obeying orders, and when questioned admitted to disobeying a couple.'

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. 'Focus, Almeida. You'll get through this.'

The questioning continued, probing ever deeper. He began to feel like a criminal on trial. He was questioned as Hammond held his file open in his hand, asking in detail about orders followed from every CO he'd ever had. 'Focus, Almeida' he muttered silently, as General Petersen's name came up.

'Did you follow all orders by General Petersen?'

'Yes' he said, feeling an ice cold calm through himself.

Hammond read his military record, frowning. 'Did you go into Yemen on his orders?'

'No.'

'Did the general verbally forbid you to enter Yemen?'

'No.' Tony stared at the floor, knowing he would fail to get this job.

'Mr. Hammond, I think Tony lacked sufficient time to question the general,' Jack said, throwing him a stern look. 'Occasionally a military situation forces decisions from the officer on the spot.'

'Did you believe the general would authorize the mission, had you contacted him?'

'No,' Tony muttered. He sat up, pulling the wires from him. 'OK, you guessed it! I was there; I was not going to sit around while ten members of the US navy were beheaded. We went in, we got them all out, and nobody got hurt. You would've sacrificed those men, I know. I guess I'd better go.' He stood up.

'Sit down, Tony, right now!' Instinctively he obeyed the voice of authority, staring at Jack, wandering why he hadn't been allowed to go.

'Alright, he's a capable officer, following most orders, unable to stand by and watch innocents killed regardless of orders. Hmm. Now let's find out what sort of agent he'd make.' Hammond stood in front of him, staring coldly into his eyes, as the wires were reattached to him. Tony felt sick. They had already proved him a liar. What else would they discover?

'Mr. Almeida, do you consider all Americans equal?'

'Sure' he answered without hesitation. 'Yes.'

'Do you have any special loyalty towards one particular group?'

'No' he said, watching their reaction. They seemed to study the laptop longer than usual.

'Would you have any trouble reporting a terrorist if you knew them? Say a high school acquaintance or an army friend?'

'No,' he said, pleased to see them look away from the monitor.

'Would you report suspicious behavior by a member of your family?'

The bile rose in his throat. That bastard Hammond would make sure he would not get this job. 'None of them would do anything worth reporting,' he began. 'They're…'

'Answer the question, Almeida, "yes" or "no",' Hammond snapped. 'You've got that many relatives it's a valid question.' He pointed with his finger at the file listing all members of his family.

Tony clenched his fists, feeling the fingerplates get in the way. He pictured himself waiting for Hammond, punching him hard on the nose in the car-park. 'My family is not…'

Hammond hissed in irritation.

'Yes' he said, deadly calm, using every ounce of training he had received. His breathing remained steady, as did his heart rate. He couldn't tell what his blood pressure did. As for his fingers, they were so sweaty he doubted the machine could read anything accurately from them anymore.

Hammond gave another snort. 'Mr. Almeida, let me repeat that question,' the technician told him, while his heart sank. Why the hell couldn't he get away with anything? 'Would you report suspicious activity by a member of your family?'

'Sure,' he agreed, seeing their irritation. 'I'd betray my own mother for watering her roses on a non-watering day!'

'Settle down, Tony, you're doing ok,' Jack told him. Tony stared at him in amazement. 'I'm doing ok?' he thought. 'And it's _me_ sitting here in this chair? You're lying better than I ever could! I've blown this job ages ago!'

'No,' he said, staring directly at Hammond. They gazed at each other in silence for a full minute. Chappelle turned to look out of the window, while the technician unhooked him. He rubbed his fingertips in disgust, attempting to get the feel of the fingerplates off them.

'A word in private,' Jack said to the two from Division.

Soon Tony found himself sitting in the waiting area, clenching and unclenching his fists while the three men discussed him inside Chappelle's office. He felt drained, resenting his deepest secrets exposed. He wandered how he would tell his parents he'd failed after all. Failed a lie detector test too. They would _love_ that!

'Tony, come in,' Jack called. 'I've been explaining what excellent computer skills you have. Don't look so hostile when they question you, they put everyone through the wringer,' he hissed, pushing Tony towards the door. 'I spent half an hour in there showing them you saved an entire CIA team, back in Saudi Arabia. It counted for something. It's time for your oath.'

'Jack, I don't know,' Tony said, stopping. 'They know I disobeyed orders once. They know I wouldn't report my family. Those guys didn't seem all that impressed with me. Damn it, I didn't see any of _them_ fighting in Kuwait! And _they_ look at _me_!'

Jack glared at him. 'Not many people pass the question about their family,' he said. 'And they'll overlook your acting on your own initiative in the army that once. Inside' he said pointing Tony to the office. Tony took a deep breath and followed him back inside.

'Sit down, Tony,' Chappelle said. 'We're going to witness your oath in a minute. Do you realize what this entails? It means you swear to defend your country against all enemies, internal and external, regardless of the outcome to your own personal safety. You are bound to keep secret all confidential materials you gain access to. Do you think you can do that?' Tony nodded. 'Then let me warn you before we start, Tony. We don't tolerate _ANY_ deviation from our rules. Any failure on your part will see you prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. The law is not usually kind to Federal Agents, either.'

Tony nodded. He understood perfectly. All Intel he would come across was confidential. Any leak would cause lives. Any mistake on his part would cause lives. These people at Division were so hostile because they dealt with terrorists on a daily basis. 'I won't let you down, Mr. Chappelle. I've been on dozens of classified missions, and nobody knows a thing about them beyond those who sent me.'

Tony was made to stand up and swear to defend the constitution and security of the United States. He promised without reservation, knowing he would do anything to keep the nation safe for the civilian population, for his family.

He was given a high security clearance, just two levels below Jack's. On the way back to CTU he sat in silence, gazing at the cars they drove past.

That afternoon he left CTU drained, wanting only to be alone. He called his mother to say he'd be home late and would warm his own dinner, and drove down to the beach. The same blue ocean met him as two days ago, splashing against the shore. Tony grabbed his bag from the boot and changed into his beach clothes, sitting on the shore away from the crowd. He mulled over the events of the day, exhausted. It took an entire hour of sitting on the shore before he felt able to move. Slowly he rose and went into the water, swimming strongly through the breakers. He fixed his eyes on the horizon and swam straight out, pausing only when he felt he couldn't swim any further. Fighting the waves he rolled around, seeing the lights on the distant shore, swimming back, fixing his gaze on one particular light.

'You should know better than to play this game, Almeida! One of these days you won't make it back,' he told himself, dragging himself onto the beach. He collapsed onto his towel, resting. It was past midnight when he arrived home, parked his car and slipped inside. He crept through the silent house, too exhausted to eat, curling on top of his bed.

* * *

He enjoyed working for CTU. He loved the flow of information that never made it on the news. At the beginning he felt as though he had a finger on the pulse of the nation. Searching through databases, and using all his hacking skills he searched out information leading to the apprehension of several dangerous terrorists, many of them before they committed a crime.

There were busy days – days when he barely had time to grab a bite to eat. There were quieter days, when he had time to find what he was looking for in peace, time to watch Nina at work, time to notice her relationship with Jack, time to resent Jack for having her. There were days when he wandered over to her desk with the flimsiest excuse, hoping to spend a few minutes chatting to her. To his intense disappointment she appeared besotted with Jack, following him around, leaving the office with him for lunch, returning minutes before or after him. He would have forced himself to give up hoping for her attention was Jack single, but Jack was married. Whenever he was called upstairs into his office Tony would steal a quick look at the photo Jack had on his desk. The photo of a wife and a golden haired daughter. The picture gave him hope. One day Nina would ask for more than just meeting Jack for lunch, and then she might well notice him. In the meantime, he would wait.

He gazed at the grey ceiling hopelessly. It appeared he would get little sleep that night. His whole body was tense, unable to settle anywhere. Thousands of random thoughts and images chased each other through his brain. He saw his little sisters chasing each other round the garden with a hose –he saw them at their weddings. He saw Bobby on his first day of school –he saw him as a naval officer waving farewell from his ship. He saw Marco with two suitcases in his hand on his doorstep at midnight, lips pressed together, telling him silently his marriage was over. He saw his mother bending over him, checking his bleeding knee after he'd fallen off his bike. He remembered his grandfather's hand on his shoulder as he turned the car on, prepared to return to the States, not knowing it would be the last time he would see him alive. He allowed the image to run a little further, remembered opening his door and climbing back out for one last hug. 'Goodbye Tony, drive safe. And.' He had joined in the final word, saying it together "slowly". He had burst out laughing, telling his grandfather he would really have to this time, as he barely had any points left on the temporary license he had been granted due to his being a Federal Agent. Tears burned under his closed eyelids, forcibly held inside.

'Dammit' he thought, struggling to calm himself. 'I really need that photo back.' The silence seemed to crush him. He heard nothing apart from his own breathing.


	31. Chapter Thirty One

Tony lifted tired eyes from the screen, rubbing them. He really needed another coffee to wake him up. This job required his full attention, and he was growing sleepy. Grabbing his Cubs mug, he headed to the coffee machine. As usual he burned his tongue, trying the boiling drink. Slowly he carried it back to his desk, stopping along the way to chat with a few analysts.

'Ah, you still support the Cubs?' asked a young man, shaking his head. 'You should pick another team, Tony!'

'No, he's not the type to desert a sinking ship!' answered a young woman, smiling at him.

'Come on, it's hardly a fair comparison,' he protested, sipping his cooling coffee. 'They won a game last week. They really did, I watched it with my own eyes.'

'They got lucky. If you show up often enough for games, you're bound to get lucky sometimes,' the man told him. 'What are you doing this weekend?'

Tony shook his head, not having thought that far ahead. 'I'm not sure. Drive along the coast a bit, and go have dinner with my family. What - why are you guys laughing at me?'

'No, you're right, Tony, we shouldn't laugh. I just won a bet, that's all. You owe me ten bucks, Philip.'

'Ah, ok.'

Tony settled on Philip's desk, placing his mug on the shelf. 'Come on, you guys, tell me. What bet did you make about me?'

They glanced at each other, and Philip finally grinned sheepishly at him. 'Deborah here just betted you wouldn't last a weekend without visiting your family for dinner this entire month, and I betted you could. She won.'

'Hey, don't take it badly, Tony. If I'd be free, I'd pick you up, for sure. You'll make an incredible husband.'

'Yeah,' he said, grinning back at them. 'You can win another bet too. I'm taking my niece to the zoo on my day off tomorrow.'

'Another ten bucks, Philip!'

'Guys, I'd better go, before you become so rich you won't show up for work,' Tony said, getting up with his coffee. 'And poor Philip here will be broke.'

He carried his mug back to his desk, highly amused. 'Well,' he reflected, 'he wasn't the only one mentioning his family whenever he had a moment free. Deborah always discussed her baby, and Philip boasted about a string of girls madly in love with him.' At that thought he glanced at Nina's empty desk, turning to look upstairs. Jack's office was empty as well. 'What a coincidence' he muttered to himself, settling down to his work. When would she ever look at him? Most likely never, of course, but still, he was patient, he would wait.

The phone rang, an outside line, having rung out unanswered in Jack's office. He picked it up with interest. 'CTU Almeida.'

The voice at the other end sounded slightly disconcerted. 'Ah, it's Jack's wife here. Is he around? I really needed to talk to him. He's not answering his cell.'

Tony chewed his lip, embarrassed. 'That's because he's out with his girlfriend,' he thought, sorry for her. 'He's in a real important meeting right now, with some guys from Division' he lied. 'I'll let him know you called the moment he gets out.' She thanked him and he hung up, shaking his head. 'Son of a bitch, Jack,' he muttered. He would NEVER go out with anyone if he had a wife waiting at home! He felt ashamed of lying to the woman in the photo.

Half an hour later he saw them entering CTU, walking purposefully towards their desks. He twirled a pen in his fingers, turning round as Jack passed his desk. 'Ah Jack, your wife just called. She was concerned when she couldn't reach you.'

Jack stopped, fixing him with a sudden cold glance. Under that sharp scrutiny he felt his pen stop.

'What did you say?'

'That you're in a meeting at Division, and you'd call her the moment you finish,' he replied, receiving another blistering stare.

'Thanks, Tony. I was held up. How's that list coming?' He glanced at Tony's monitor. 'Get on with it, Tony; Division needs this by the end of the afternoon.'

'Sure,' Tony replied, feeling himself put back in place by his boss.

A few minutes later Nina stopped by his desk to check on his progress, ordering him to hurry with his list. 'Yeah' he told her, 'it'll be done by five. I got to go grab a bite to eat first. I haven't had lunch yet.'

Nina fixed him with the same stern frown she usually reserved for him whenever he alluded to her lunches with Jack. 'You got twenty five minutes, Tony. Not an hour, like you took yesterday.'

He rubbed the side of his face, knowing he wasn't yet forgiven for bumping into the two of them eating together last week. They had pretended they were expecting Chappelle from Division, but he suspected they knew he was onto them. Nina had taken to checking the time he spent at lunch, reprimanding him whenever he returned a few minutes late. He was already getting a little tired of being pulled up every afternoon; except that he loved the way her eyes looked into his when she scolded him.

He finished analyzing the column and found his sandwich in his briefcase. He wandered outside, enjoying the walk in the fresh air, wishing again that CTU would be located closer to the beach. He would eat indoors and use lunch break for a quick swim. Just as well it wasn't, though, or he'd be fired for arriving back late everyday.

His cell rang. Tony pulled it out of his pocket, seeing it was his parents' number. 'Hi mom' he said cheerfully. He listened silently, nodding his head. 'No, I'm not in the office; I'm outside having a walk. Come on, mom, I get to have a lunch break too.' He sighed. 'Yes mom, of course I've had lunch. How's Janey?' He felt awkward asking his sister about her health, so he always asked his mother instead.

'Tony, she's doing as well as she was this morning. I know you joined her at breakfast.' Tony stopped walking. He usually made it a habit to visit Jane early every morning, before he had to go to work, as he never knew what kind of day awaited him. Hospital security no longer attempted to stop him. Only an old matron frowned heavily at his early visits, remaining unimpressed with his CTU card.

'Mom, I really have to go back to work now,' he told her, turning back slowly.

'Wait a moment, Tony. I got a call from your grandfather. I hoped you could help him a little.'

'What's wrong?' he asked, worried. He didn't think he could cope with another member of his family being sick. 'He's not sick, is he?'

'No, pet, he received a letter from the local council. You know the town is growing. They want a compulsory purchase of his farm, to subdivide it into residential blocks. He's very upset.'

'They can't do that!' he cried, knowing as he spoke that they could. 'He likes to live _on his farm!' _He could imagine his grandfather's distress. 'It would kill him, he's old now. Who wrote him the letter? Which department?'

'The town planner.'

Tony fleetingly thought of driving over on the weekend to speak to the town planner with his rifle, dismissing the thought firmly. 'Really Almeida, you spent too many years in the army!' The normal action would be to speak to the man. 'I'll call him mom, don't worry. He's NOT touching anything.'

He glanced at his watch, seeing that he had less than a minute left. Nina would tell him off yet again. He hurried as fast as he could.

Nina came over to his desk as he moved his mouse to see the list he had been working on. 'Nice to see you're making an effort to return on time, Tony,' she said. 'You want to tell me another hard luck story?'

Tony sighed. She was lovely, but just once he would prefer a smile from her rather than a frown. 'Not really. I'll stay after class!' he said sarcastically.

Nina shook her head at him. 'Just get back to work, Tony. That list is important.' She walked back to her desk, while he stared after her, shaking his head. What did she see in Jack?

After completing the list and writing a summary of his analysis he checked the number of his grandfather's city council and called reception, asking to be put through to the town planner. He proved to be obstinate, arguing with Tony for half an hour, insisting that the town could not grow any other way. Tony hung up only after Jack tapped him on the shoulder sternly, pointing towards his office.

'Tony, I've already told you to keep your line open. This is not the place to make personal international calls. Next time call your relatives from home. Where is your list?'

'I'll transfer it,' he said.

'Tony, I expect important data to be transferred to me the minute it's complete. I know you work well and fast – I expect you to do so all the time you're here, not slack off the moment you complete something. Is that clear?'

'Fair enough,' he agreed, walking back to his desk. Now what could he do about the town planner? The man had nearly completed a report showing his grandfather's farm as the most suitable for subdivision. Well, incomplete reports were usually stored on computers, and as long as it was stored on a computer, he would find it. He would have found it by himself at home too, but it would be a lot easier with the resources of CTU available to him.

An hour later he was searching through the planner's desk top, checking through the scores of reports on subdivisions. The man's lack of organization made his task harder. Instead of sorting his files by the names of the owners, or the numbers of the lots, he sorted them according to the date he started working on the plans, and Tony could only guess at when he first decided to make a feasibility study of his grandfather's land. He cursed the man for the tenth time, sipping yet another mug of coffee. The night shift had arrived two hours ago, and the supervisor had already walked past his desk a couple of times, checking whether he was finished with the task he'd invented as an excuse for staying late. Surely he hadn't already completed the entire detailed report and mapping? He opened yet another file, checking to make sure no one came too close to his work station. His eyes lit up. This was the one he had been looking for. He read the detailed analysis, noting it was supposed to go to the nearest city's engineer for final approval. He changed a few figures in the report, making the gradient on the hill steeper, the groundwater level on the flat land higher, and the surrounding stream deeper. He added a sentence he copied from another report, explaining that it was possible the land was subject to flooding, and landslides, but only in extreme weather conditions. By the time he finished he doubted whether anyone would consider building anything more permanent than a garden shed on the property. Carefully he exited from the site, covering his tracks.

He drove to his parents' house, knowing they would want to discuss his grandfather's problems with him. They greeted him at the door, insisting he have dinner. Tony grinned, having hoped they would have something left.

'Is there anything you can do for him, Tony?' his father asked, without much hope. 'Bloody bureaucrats, never leave anyone alone, even the most harmless people. Why can't they wait a few years? He's already so old.'

'Don't worry about it, Papa, I've spoken to the guy,' he said, eating rapidly. 'Mom, have you got anymore?'

'Sure honey, in the fridge. Warm it up.'

He took out another plateful and warmed it up on the stove. 'Tony, did the planner agree to leave the farm as it is?' inquired his father.

'No. But don't worry Papa; I took care of the report.'

'Tony, what exactly did you do?' His father came to stand behind him. 'Answer me at once!'

'Now Papa, you know I can't discuss confidential government reports,' he said, stirring the food.

'Right now, Tony!' said his father firmly, in the voice he had used before sending him to his room.

'I just changed a few figures, that's all. Don't worry so much Papa, they'll never trace it to me. It'll delay things a couple of years.' Hearing his father's sigh he turned to face him. 'Papa, it's the best I could do. I did consider setting up my rifle and burying him in his backyard, but…'

'Tony, that's not funny.'

He nodded. 'Come on, Papa, it's only a report. It'll buy some time.'

'And if your boss ever finds out, you're fired. It's not worth the risk. Don't do it again.' His father looked him in the eye.

He nodded reluctantly. 'Of course not, Papa. But you don't need to worry about my boss. He's got _much_ more important things to think about than me. He's real busy at work, and he's leading an interesting life outside it, too.'

He spent the night in his old bedroom, sleeping so soundly he had to be woken by his mother. 'Tony get up, you don't want to be late. Breakfast is on the table.' He grinned as he had a quick shower. It sounded good, breakfast on the table. It was one of the things he missed the most, since he got his own apartment. He also missed having someone to talk to, which was why he spent almost as much time in his parents' house as in his own place.

He ate fast, joined by an excited Sandy. 'Uncle Tony,' she yelled, climbing in his lap. 'I didn't know you were here. I'm going to spend the day with Grandmother. We're going shopping. Daddy's gonna take me there.'

He ate faster, not wishing to see Robert. 'When are you getting back, princess?'

'Tonight sometime. Will you be here too?'

'I sure will. We're going to the zoo tomorrow, remember. Be good with your grandmother.'

A car drew up the driveway, blocking his own. He groaned aloud, refraining from any comments as Sandy was present. His mother threw him a warning glance. She opened the door, admitting Robert. 'Daddy,' Sandy yelled, climbing off his lap and running to her father. Tony pressed his lips together, fighting down his jealousy.

'Alexandra Jane, what are you wearing? Where's your dress? You know you can't go to town like that.'

'What's wrong with her outfit?' Tony asked, irritated. 'She's four years old.'

'Come along then, we'll have to stop at home and get you changed,' Robert told her. 'Don't Federal Agents have a set time to arrive at work, Tony? Or are my taxes being wasted?'

Tony's face flushed. 'They get to go out on cases too, Robert. Right now I'm investigating company fraud. Amazing how much money goes to shady areas.'

Robert gave him a cold stare. 'You stay out of my affairs, Tony!'

'I will. Wouldn't want to upset Janey or Sandy,' he replied. 'But…'

His mother stepped between them. 'Tony, go upstairs and help Sandy find her shoes.' He went reluctantly, cursing himself for having lost his temper again. He always resolved to stay calm around Robert and always ended up being baited and irritated. One of these days he was going to punch Robert on the nose, and he couldn't begin to imagine what his mother and sister would say to him then.

'Tell Janey I'll look in on her this afternoon,' he told Robert, grabbing his briefcase.

'Yes, I was going to call her,' Robert replied, putting Sandy in the car.

'You know, cancer's not infectious. You wouldn't catch it, if you'd ever visit her,' Tony hissed, feeling his fists clench. His mother opened his car's door, pushing him firmly inside. 'If you'd move your car, I'd be real glad. Some people actually work, Robert, rather than transfer large sums of money around.'

Robert drove away and he backed out fast, not wanting to see his mother's face. He would hear all about his rudeness in the evening, he was certain.

He arrived ten minutes late, checking automatically whether Jack was in, but he wasn't yet, and neither was Nina, so he allowed himself to relax. Settling at his desk he concluded a few small reports and placed them on a corner of his desk, handing an impressive looking pile to Jack when he entered. Jack actually patted him on the shoulder.

'Well done, Tony. I'll send these along to Division. Come upstairs for a moment, would you?' He nodded, following Jack to his office. He was going to be handed an important task now, most likely hacking, that needed to be discussed in complete privacy.

'Tony, you ever tried hacking into a file in Spanish?' Jack began, waving him to a chair.

The breath caught in his throat, and he felt his face grow hot. The question was so unexpected it caught him off guard, and he took a couple of seconds to pull an impassive look on his face. 'Ah,' he began.

'I'll take that as a "yes". Remember, you do so only on my orders, right.'

'Yeah,' he agreed, greatly relieved.

'I need you to access the personal accounts of some Colombians. I'll give you their names, find their accounts and write me a report.'

'Sure' he agreed, glad to be handed a task that would enable him to work uninterrupted for the rest of the day. It was late when he finished, sending the report to Jack's computer, peeping in on his sister and driving back to his parents' house.

He greeted his mother with a sheepish grin. 'Hi mom. Do I get any dinner? I've been that busy I missed lunch.' It worked like a charm, just as he had hoped. He was handed a large plate of food moments later and Robert wasn't mentioned.

* * *

Tony rolled over onto his stomach, taking care to keep the injured part of his neck facing upwards. It hurt considerably whenever it came in contact with anything. He laid his hands a few inches from his sides, placing them gently on the sheet, feeling pain the moment they touched. He shut his eyes firmly. The last place he wanted to remember was CTU!

He saw the glass doors, the desks, the peoples' faces clearly. How could he have possibly found Nina attractive? He felt his face grow hot. He had been such a fool.

He was _not_ going to think about CTU! He was tired, he had an important day tomorrow, and he was going to sleep!


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

Nothing short of a miracle could help the Cubs now, yet Tony remained faithfully glued to the TV. He swore softly in Spanish and swallowed the remainder of beer in his glass. He flicked his TV off and grabbed his ringing cell phone. 'Almeida'.

'Tony. The game's over. Are you ready to come help now?' He detected mild impatience in his father's voice.

'Yep, I'm just leaving. I'll be there in ten minutes.' He grabbed his keys and slammed the front door.

'Fifteen, Tony. It takes at least fifteen minutes. You don't need another ticket this year!'

He grinned in annoyance. 'I'll see you there Papa'. Why would they never quit telling him what to do? He was an adult now, he could collect as many tickets as he wanted to! CTU would take care of them.

Maria answered the door. She looked pleased to see him. He gave her a hug and nodded at Jo. 'How's it going?'

'Fine' Jo answered. 'Looks like I'm certainly in the Masters program'.

'You should be' Tony told him. 'You think in numbers, not words'. He felt proud of all his siblings, especially Jo, the student mathematician.

Jo called Maria back to the interrupted chess game. Maria sighed. 'Jo talks like a visiting professor all the time. He's distracting me. I'm just thinking where to move and he starts giving a discourse on the meaning of time.'

Tony peered over her shoulder at the board. 'You're black, right? I'd move the bishop right here and ..Check' he smiled at the annoyed expression Jo threw him.

'Tony, hi. Come along and see what you think,' his father called from the garage. He rolled his eyes and went outside. 'So what's up?'

The garage was empty of everything besides the trailer and his father's car. Along the wall with the house stood a row of shelves with tools on them, and a basketball. An opened bottle of beer lay next to it. His father appeared in work clothes, laying a screwdriver on a shelf.

'Well, you know we need the trailer tomorrow. It's really not working now. When the car indicates left, the trailer indicates right, and when the car indicates right – it blows the fuse. We can't take it out like this. What's wrong with it?'

Tony had a fair idea already, but he couldn't resist a wise comment. 'Split personality disorder.' His father looked less than impressed. 'These guys aren't communicating. I'd fire the translator.'

'Just fix it' his father exclaimed, making a hasty getaway.

Tony settled into the intricacies of auto electronics. Maria presently joined him. She pushed aside a bunch of tools and sat on a work bench. 'How's college?'

'Oh, fine.' She played with a few strands of hair.

Tony smiled at her. 'So what's his name? Come on, tell me! Is he handsome, or gorgeous, or cool?'

'All of the above'. She laughed with him. Tony spent the next ten minutes listening to the virtues of the latest boy to catch his sister's eye. Apparently he had the coolest outfit and played tennis like a pro. 'Thing is, I don't know where he lives or his phone number. Or what he's interested in. What to talk about.'

'Oh oh. You're asking me to run a background check on a perfectly innocent citizen. It's out of the question!'

'Thanks Tony' Maria said, giving him a hug. 'I knew you'd help.'

'Well, I'm not really supposed to. I mean, I checked out Michael and Philip and Peter, and then the guy who played football –whatever his name was, and Matthew who was always studying in the library. One of these days I'll get busted.' He shook his head in mock sorrow. 'Anyway, what's wrong with Matthew? He seemed a nice guy.'

'Nothing's wrong with him Tony. He's just still doing exactly that –studying in the library all day.'

'Wow! A college student studying! He might like the thought of passing. You should think about that too, young lady.'

His father appeared. 'Maria, go write up an assignment or something. You're distracting Tony. Have you fixed the trailer yet?'

'Papa relax, I'm just dismantling it. Am I invited to dinner, coz it'll take that long?'He loved eating dinner at home with his family. If he was honest, he didn't really like living alone at all.They ate dinner together in the evening, teasing Maria about her latest boyfriends.Tony played a little basketball with Jo and excused himself early.

He really had to be on time for work tomorrow. Jack had given him a dirty look on Friday, and Nina had actually told him off the day before. That stung. Not that she wasn't beautiful when she was angry, but he would prefer a smile instead. He wandered yet again what she saw in Jack.

Tony arrived at CTU at 8:27 the next morning hoping to impress Nina. That morning Nina happened to be late and barely spared him a glance. He waited while she settled into her work and then approached her desk with a thick folder. 'The Ravensthorpe report.'

Nina motioned towards her desk with her pen. 'Put them there. I'll sign them later.' She resumed tapping at her keyboard. He lingered a few seconds, disappointed. Hell, he'd spent Saturday afternoon completing this tedious report. Didn't he at least deserve a smile? She raised her head and looked at him. 'Don't you have anything to do, Tony?'

'Sure' he replied and wandered back to his desk. 'Give up Almeida' he told himself, 'you haven't got a hope. Not a snowball's chance in hell. Not…'

'Tony, I'd like to see you upstairs in five minutes' Jack told him, on his way to his office. He glanced at his watch. 8.46. He supposed it was easy being the boss – you could potentially arrive anytime and just hand work round you hadn't completed yourself.

Five minutes later he stood inside Jack's office. 'I'd like you to check everything in our files on a Thomas Richardson,' Jack told him. 'Cross reference with other agencies. I especially need to know how often he went to Venezuela and exact travel dates.' He handed him a folder. 'Fill that in and have it back by 5.00'

'Five' repeated Tony. 'Today? That's a pretty detailed folder, Jack.'

'Five a.m. is acceptable too' Jack remarked. 'Get on with it, Tony.'

'Yeah' Tony sighed. He didn't bother asking any further details of the investigation. Jack never gave out any details he didn't strictly need to know, though he usually formed a pretty good idea from his own research.

He settled at his desk and began checking immigration records. 'Some people sure get around' he thought enviously as he recorded the fifteenth country visited the previous year. 'That's what I need too, a holiday!'

His phone interrupted his thoughts. 'CTU Almeida.'

'Tony, are you ready?'

He signed himself out, pausing momentarily to wander what reason he should give. Finally he settled for lunch. 10:40, possibly a trifle early, he reflected, but he'd be back before anyone would notice. He drove to his parents' house and picked up the trailer. His father sat next to him and they drove to the tile warehouse where he picked up a few hundred roof tiles. Another busy weekend, Tony thought as he drove back through the ever present LA traffic. 'Looks like plenty of people are out for an early lunch' he told his father.

The trailer had to be unloaded before it could be unhooked. They worked fast, joined by Jo who had no lectures that day. The Cubs latest dismal performance was discussed. It seemed there was no end to roof tiles. Tony felt pity for the person whose job it would be to hand them up to the roof. He had a feeling the job would fall to him. Jo answered the phone just before it rang out the second time. He returned a minute later. 'It's for you, Tony. Some guy called Jack. He sounds pissed off!'

Tony glanced at his watch and swore a string of oaths in Spanish. 'Hey Jack' he said tentatively –then held the phone further from his ear.

'What the hell are you doing, Tony? Don't bother to tell me you're having lunch. A medieval banquet would have been finished by now! Have you any idea how long lunch break is?' Tony quietly replied that it was 25 minutes. 'And you've been away for – let me see, two hours and thirteen minutes.'

'I'll be back in a few minutes, Jack.'

'You better be. I'll see you in my office the moment you get in.'

Tony hung up with a guilty expression. 'I, ah, I got to go' he told his father.

'Sorry Tony, I guess it took quite a while' his father apologized. 'Look, I think we can unhook the trailer now.'

They lifted the trailer off the tow-bar, but it was still too full and fell back jamming Tony's left hand. He yelled in pain. The trailer was lifted again and he removed his injured hand. It looked red and swollen. His family surrounded him. 'It's ok,' he assured them, seeing his mother's dismay. He placed it in the basin and ran cold water over it.

'Sorry Tony' his father said again. 'How's your hand?'

He flexed his fingers slowly. 'It's okay, nothing's broken. I've really got to run now.'

He kept a cold wet cloth on his hand as he drove to CTU. He punched in and took a deep breath. Jack was upstairs in his office talking on the phone. He climbed the stairs slowly and knocked. Jack motioned towards the back of his office and he waited silently for the phone call to end.

'Do you like this job, Tony?' Jack asked, pinning him with a cold stare.

Tony swallowed and nodded. 'Sure I do. Look Jack, I'm sorry. Something came up. It won't happen again.'

'It better not,' Jack said coldly. 'I shouldn't have to check your last received call to figure out where you are. Division upgraded priority on the Richardson case. They need a complete report by midnight. I want your section completed and here on my desk by eleven pm. Tonight,' he added glancing at Tony.

For once Tony was out of wise comments. He nodded. 'You'll have it.'

'Then I suggest you get on with it' Jack said. Tony turned and headed to the door. 'And get medical to check that hand.'

'Does the guy ever miss anything?' he wandered as he headed back downstairs. The rest of the day passed in a blur. He barely looked up from his monitor. His guy turned out to own several passports in a variety of aliases and all those trips had to be recorded too. 'God I love these "quiet" days,' Tony grumbled inwardly. 'So much time to wander around and have a chat, so much time to eat.' He opened his drawer yet again and ate the last piece of chocolate he had.

He finally looked up. 10.38 PM. Only a skeleton night shift remained beside himself. Most stations were dimmed. One task remained before he would leave. Without noticeably moving his eyes he checked the location of everyone present. Satisfied at their distance he ran the background check on his sister's latest boyfriend, copied the information on a floppy disk – placed it unnoticeably in his jacket pocket, and then gathered his folder. He handed it in to the night shift supervisor, and waited while the man glanced through it. It was laid on top of several similar folders.

'Could you note the time of completion?' Tony requested. This night shift supervisor irritated him almost beyond endurance and he hated to ask anything, but Jack had been very firm about the deadline and he had managed to complete it on time.

'It's not necessary, Almeida. You may go.'

Tony seethed. How much effort would it have cost that jerk to just write the time and initial it? 'Jack requested the time be noted' he insisted with his usual quiet determination. He was kept waiting for several minutes while the supervisor typed into his computer, before he initialed Tony's report.

That night he grabbed a sandwich and ate it by himself in the lounge. He turned on the TV for background noise. He hated these late night arrivals home to an empty apartment. It was just too quiet and too dark and the TV's cheerful sound could not dispel his loneliness. He flicked it off, laid his plate in the sink and headed off to bed.

* * *

What a pain he had been back then, Tony thought. He grinned. How had Jack put up with him? He had done more than just put up with his poor attitude. He'd saved Tony from serious trouble just the following day.

It was obvious that he wouldn't get any sleep at the moment. He felt sick and his neck had begun to ache again. His wrists hadn't stopped throbbing since his release from the cuffs. It was impossible to stop thinking about CTU, he supposed he had too many memories of the place to block them all. Slowly he sat up, climbed out of bed and moved back to the corner. He never slept without a blanket, even on the hottest nights at home; probably he missed it too much to settle.

Tony remained in his position leaning against the corner walls, on the floor. His fingers traced a pattern on the cracked floor. He wandered idly who damaged it and how long ago. Which jail would he get to leave a mark in, an "M" for Michelle? He hoped it would be near LA, so he at least had a chance to see his family. There was no way he could survive without them.


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

The sun shining on his face awoke him hours earlier than necessary the following day. He lay silently reviewing the previous day before heading to the window. There would be time for a swim this morning. After yesterday he really needed some serious beach time. He threw a t-shirt and jeans over his bathers and rushed to his car.

Only the more enthusiastic beachgoers were present at this hour. A couple of regulars exchanged nods with him as he laid down his beach towel and removed his jeans. He walked up to the cold water. 'Not bad at all' he told himself firmly and rushed in. After gasping a few seconds he began his usual mile long swim along the coast and back. Salt water splashed his face. Yet again he wished he could spend the whole day there.

He showered rapidly and headed into the beach café for breakfast. His favourite table was free so he settled and watched the waves. 'Good morning Lieutenant Almeida' greeted the owner. 'Thought you were sick. Where have you been?'

'Working at my parents' house and oh yeah, at work too,' he replied grinning. 'And Ray, would you quit calling me "lieutenant". It's been years now'.

'Yes sir, Lieutenant' the café owner agreed. He had this conversation with Tony several times a week. 'Did you know Peters had his baby on the weekend?' Ray kept in contact with all the men under Tony's command. 'Another girl. Thought we should send a card.'

'Sure' Tony agreed. 'And I'll get a present to go with it. How many kids has he got now?'

'Five' Ray laughed. Tony sighed. He felt slightly envious.

'And Koskinen re-enlisted.'

'What' Tony cried. 'Why the hell would he do that?' He couldn't give up the feeling of responsibility he felt towards the men who had served under him.

Ray shrugged. 'It got too quiet for him, I guess.'

Tony nodded in silence. He still felt the occasional craving for action too. 'I got to get to work on time today, Ray' he said, lighting up the mood. His breakfast was served immediately.

He drove home and shampooed the salt out of his hair. He grabbed a dark blue shirt and black trousers with a matching jacket, and fished his shoes out from beneath his bed. The door slammed behind him as he raced to the garage for his car. A broken down car slowed traffic to a crawl.

Tony hurried through CTU's glass doors a mere five minutes late. He swiped his access card and entered the main floor. His eyes flicked momentarily upwards and he was satisfied to note Jack's office was dark. 'Made it' he thought and hurried to his desk.

'Tony, you're late' Nina told him –disapproval in her voice.

He set his briefcase on his desk. 'Only by five minutes. And I got here three minutes early yesterday –so if we take that into account I'm only two minutes late…What's up?' he asked, seeing her distracted look.

'The main server's down. Milo's routing everything through the back-up server but it'll take time. I want all non essential files sent to Division. And Chappelle's on his way.'

Tony hurried to tech one. This day was far better than the previous one, he thought. Computer problems interested him and enabled him to work with them in peace. No reports for him today!

'Hi Tony' Milo greeted. 'No idea why this crashed. Can you start moving stuff to clear the back-up server?' He grabbed a chair.

'Now let's see what really is essential' he spoke almost to himself. 'All the rest can go.'

'All this stuffs been backed-up, right?'

'Right' Tony confirmed.'

'Then I'm powering off the main server.'

Tony continued sending older information over to Division. He felt a mild pity for their I.T. guy, having to store it all so unexpectedly.

Milo stared at the offending server as though it had personally let him down. He opened the case and checked the hardware. Everything appeared in order. Tony glanced over. 'Fan working?'

'Yep. It must be a software fault. I'll power it up and check how it responds.'

He began to screw the case closed. The door sprang open. Tony noticed Milo's eyes close in exasperation and swiveled his chair to see who entered. He only barely managed to force his own grimace away and placed a polite expression on his face. 'Good morning Mr. Chappelle.'.

'Good morning Tony, Milo. What's wrong with the server? Why aren't you working on it? We must get it working immediately.'

'It's just powering up sir,' Milo said.

'Well get it going, Milo. We don't have time to waste.' He walked out. Milo stared in silence at Tony.

'Don't take it personally, he's always like that' Tony told him. 'Just press that "on" button harder, Milo, we need to get that machine working' he drawled in Chappelle's tone.

Milo laughed. 'Ok, I'll head over to my work station and start running diagnostics. Can you keep an eye on it?'

'Sure' he agreed.

Milo left and began running diagnostics from his work station on the main floor. Tony searched for files not directly being used that day and continued transferring them. 'So Tony, did you see the thrashing the Cubs got on the weekend?' Milo asked on the speaker phone.

'Oh come on' Tony protested. 'They're improving.'

'Yeah, if you say so. Only hope they got is if everyone else gets disqualified, and the chances of that……..'

'Pressman' Tony clearly heard Chappelle's voice, 'you're not concentrating. Who are you talking to? Almeida, I suppose. A couple of old ladies couldn't chat as much as you two. Now stop wasting time, the pair of you, and maybe we can get our systems up!'

Tony heard receding footsteps and Milo's voice came back. 'Got that, Almeida?'

'Sure did, Pressman. So quit wasting time' he laughed.

The door opened so silently Tony failed to hear it over the hum of several computers. 'Mr. Chappelle gave you an order Tony. Follow it!'

He jumped. 'Jack. I'm almost done here.'

'Fine. As soon as you are, let me know. Mr. Chappelle wants several forms completed. You can assist Nina.'

His heart hammered as he sent the last files across. The rest of the information could stay, he decided. The server would just have to store the rest –he was off to work with Nina.

Nina handed him a government efficiency form the moment he approached her desk. 'Try and work through that Tony. Mr. Chappelle wants to look through these tomorrow.'

'Right, I'll get it done – for Mr. Chappelle.' He searched her face but found no sign she had noticed his slight pause.

Jack approached. 'Nina, could you come upstairs please?' Tony watched her face light up. He slammed his fist against his desk.

Now what was this new task? Astonishment crept over him. A basic questionnaire on work performance for CTU LA. He filled it in painting the picture a slightly rosier shade than it deserved. Page 2 Average Arrival Times For Staff Members, oh great. Chappelle would have a field day with this question. Average Overtime. Well, he would be redeemed; he basically lived there during the week.

'Almeida' he answered his phone.

'Tony, it's me.' He recognized Jane's voice. 'I'm not doing so well, I'll have to go down to the hospital.'

He swallowed, hearing the weakness in her voice. 'Janey, I'll come with you.'

'No. Listen Tony, I can't find Robert, so there's no one to pick up Sandy. Mom's not in. I know you're at work, but I don't know what else to do.'

'Don't worry Janey. I'll get her. What time does it end?'

'3.00. I'll call the teacher to say you'll be collecting her. Thanks, Tony.'

He rubbed the side of his face hard and stared into space. 'Please God don't let her have a relapse' he prayed, blinking hard. After swallowing a couple of times he stared up at Jack's office. He was working alone. Tony sighed and headed up the stairs.

'Jack. I need to leave at 2.30. Could I complete this at home and drop it back?'

Jack looked back at him questioningly. Tony saw there was no way he would be dismissed without providing more information.

'I got to pick up my niece from school. My sister's sick. There's no one else today.' He struggled to keep concern for Jane off his face, knowing he failed when Jack nodded.

He waited outside the class with the other parents. The children came through individually and presently Sandy appeared. 'Hi princess' he smiled and swung her up. 'Mommy went to get some medicine at the hospital, so how about you come home with me. We can stop for an ice-cream.'

'Is Mommy ok?' asked the small girl worriedly. Her smile disappeared and she looked ready to cry.

He hugged her tighter. 'Sure she is. We'll call her later. So what did you do today?' She chatted to him about her day while he drove to a shopping mall. 'Let's get some ice-cream. You pick.'

He allowed himself to be dragged into a toy shop after the ice-cream and ended up buying a large dolls-house with a bell that rang. Sandy played with it while he completed his report. It was a document so he would have to drop it off after taking the child home. Tony moved into the bathroom and called Jane's cell, getting only the message. He sighed quietly and dialed the hospital. Yes, Jane had been admitted. Yes, his call would be transferred directly if he could hold. He opened the bathroom door a crack to find Sandy watching TV. Silently he shut it and waited for Jane's voice.

'Hi Tony. The doctor wants to run some tests.' Her voice sounded tired. 'Has Robert come for Sandy yet? I left him three messages.'

'Honey, don't worry about her. She's fine. Can we come see you?'

'Would you bring her, Tony? I'd love to see her for a bit.'

'We're on our way,' he said and went to get the child. He tried to prepare her for her mother staying in hospital overnight. It was harder than he had expected. Sandy was getting tired and fretful and kept asking why her mother couldn't just go home.

'Princess, she's real sick. She needs some medicines and then she'll come home. Just give her a few days. Now be nice and quiet, people need to rest here.'

'Where's Dad?'

Tony gritted his teeth. 'He's real busy now. He'll call as soon as he can' he lied.

'Mommy will call him' Sandy told him. He didn't trust himself to reply.

He bought a bunch of flowers and handed them to Sandy. Jane was sitting up in bed. Sandy rushed to her. Tony leaned against the wall in the waiting room wanting to give them a couple of minute's privacy. He fought back his tears. A few minutes later a nurse came to call him. He returned to Jane's room.

'Tony, Robert still hasn't called. He must be entertaining clients. Could you drive Sandy to mom?'

'She's welcome to stay with me' he told her.

'You can't keep running out of work. Mom'll have her. But I guess they'd be glad if you could take her over the weekend.' He promised he would, noting her acceptance of her return to hospital.

Sandy fell asleep in the car as he drove to his parents' house. He carried her upstairs to the room which his sisters used to share and tucked her up.

'Sorry mom, I left her bag at home' he said, avoiding her gaze. His parents looked as depressed as he felt. They stared at each other in silence for a moment. 'I got to go,' Tony said. 'I got something to drop at work.'

He left his folder on Jack's desk and returned to his car. For a while he stared at the cardigan Sandy had left. The empty apartment was more than he could face right now. He needed a drink first. He stopped at a bar close to CTU and walked in.

Two analysts recognized him and waved but didn't go over. Tony sank into a chair and swallowed a double scotch. It did little to lift his spirits. He ordered a second one. More people drifted into the bar. Their voices merged into babble. Blue smoke swirled, obscuring some customers and revealing others. Just as he sipped his third double scotch his sniper's instinct kicked in. He had a target!

He rubbed a hand across his eyes. 'Time to go home, Almeida' he muttered. He must be really drunk. Even so, he'd been drunk a couple of times since combat without seeing Robert as a target. Robert? He forced the swirling fog aside and narrowed his eyes. Robert and the woman he'd been seeing the past year sat laughing together with a group. His arm slipped round her shoulders and began moving lower. She opened her mouth. They kissed.

Tony rose. He swallowed his drink and negotiated the crowded bar. Robert swam in and out of his vision. He paused directly in front of them and narrowed his eyes. 'Focus, Almeida'. Robert looked nervous? The intended target wasn't supposed to know……..He had no gun with him anyway.

'Janey called you.' His words spun in his ears. He'd killed dozens more innocent militants than this guy. Someone called his name. He pushed it into the background babble. His hands clenched into fists and Robert went sprawling. Tony moved carefully past the overturned chair and hit Robert again. People screamed. Robert managed to punch him once on his left eye. Once again Tony hit him. Hands grabbed his arms. He fought them off, enraged. One final punch landed on Robert –then he felt a sharp blow to his head and lost all remaining focus, sound and sight.

He awoke the next morning with a terrible hangover, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He lay on an unfamiliar bed, in a strange room with bars. Bars? He sat up and groaned at the sharp pain in his head. His hands ran over his face. One eye proved swollen shut, and he felt a bandage taped round the back of his head. He struggled to remember last night. There was a target he'd tried to eliminate. His good eye opened in horror. Oh God, what had he done?

Someone peered in on him then left. About an hour passed before a police officer arrived. He handed Tony some breakfast, tea and a tablet. He took the latter first. Presently the officer returned. 'The captain will see you now' he said. He led Tony along a corridor, up two flights of stairs and into a spacious office. The bright light made him wince.

A police captain sat behind a desk, and Jack Bauer sat in an armchair. Both stared at him.

'He's all yours Bauer. Manning dropped all charges; we have no reason to hold him any longer.'

'I owe you one' Jack said and got up. 'Let's go' he ordered Tony. Tony followed him down the stairs and out of the police station. His mind couldn't formulate thoughts rapidly enough to attempt speech just yet.

Outside the door Jack turned towards him and pointed a finger at his chest. 'You're suspended Almeida. Go home. You have until Monday to think about your behavior.' He turned and left Tony alone on the sidewalk.

* * *

Tony's face burned as he remembered the incident. Jack had been there for him despite his blatant antipathy for him. Jack somehow got Robert to withdraw his charges and allow him to escape a police record. And yeah, Jack had chewed him out the following Monday, but never referred to the incident again.

Tony hung his head. What had he accused his friend of just yesterday? Sacrificing his wife for the job? He replayed the few cutting remarks he'd made and slowly shook his head. After all that, Jack had spoken up for him when Hammond's men threw him in handcuffs.

'I'm sorry Jack' he said aloud. 'I'm real, real sorry.' He got up and took the now familiar three steps to the front of his cell. The corridor was deserted. 'I'm sorry, Jack' he said into the silence.


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

George Mason closed his briefcase and stood up. 'Ah, there you are, Tony. I'm just not getting any better from this cold, so I'm going home. It's the end of the shift anyway. Now, I was supposed to meet Ryan Chappelle at Division for a meeting, and I'm not going to make it. You'll find a copy of the agenda on my desk. Remember, we need more people, they'll want to cut our budget, you argue for more personnel. Have fun!'

'George, I'm no good at this kind of thing,' Tony protested. 'I've only ever accompanied you and watched. Hell, they'd probably cut both our budget AND our personnel! You'd string me up tomorrow!'

'So don't give me a reason to do so,' Mason replied. 'Goodnight, Tony.'

It would have been, Tony thought gloomily as he glanced through the agenda. He had been invited to dinner with Jane and little Sandy. Grimacing he picked up the phone and called asking whether he could go the following night instead. Meetings at Division tended to last for hours, he recalled, and he would need a strong drink rather than dinner with his family afterwards.

He parked in Mason's spot and entered the imposing building. A security guard checked his ID and scanned his hand before opening the door. He remembered the way to the conference room and arrived there five minutes early. Plenty of time to get a coffee, he decided, and it would be a good idea to do so. Chappelle's voice tended to put him to sleep, especially after a long day in the office. CTU was counting on him for extra personnel, he couldn't fail them. Tony put his usual spoonful of coffee into a mug, and then paused. That might not be enough to do the trick. He added another two spoonfuls and poured boiling water over it. A horrible expression crept across his face. His coffee was revolting, though it was certainly strong. He added another spoonful of sugar.

A merry chuckle startled him. 'You must be preparing for the meeting,' said a female voice. Tony looked up and swallowed a mouthful of coffee the wrong way. She was gorgeous! She had long auburn hair which she wore tied in a pony-tail, and kind brown eyes that sparkled with amusement. She wore a blue dress. After he finished coughing up the coffee she introduced herself. 'I'm Michelle Dessler, I'll be attending the meeting to observe, hopefully learn something.'

She was going to the meeting! Suddenly the prospect of spending the evening in Division's conference room turned appealing. 'Thanks, George' he said silently. He found himself grinning back at Michelle.

'Your name?' she prompted. 'You know, it's your turn now.'

He felt himself blush to the roots of his hair. 'Ah, I'm Tony Almeida, CTU,' he introduced himself. 'Mason, my boss is sick, so I'm here instead.'

'You drink much more of that coffee you'll get sick too,' she told him amused. 'So what are you missing, dinner with your wife?'

'No, I'm not married,' he replied hurriedly. 'Dinner with my sister and four year old niece, actually. I'm going to have to read her two bedtime stories tomorrow.'

Michelle smiled at him again. 'They can be real cute at that age. Now, I'd better follow your example and fortify myself with a strong coffee too.' She made up her coffee and Tony hurriedly poured the hot water over it. 'It'll be a real long meeting tonight, I hear. Chappelle will talk about our budget, and Alberta Green has something to say too, I just can't remember what…' She stopped and gave him a curious expression. 'What's wrong?'

'Ah, the coffee. It's too hot,' he said hurriedly.

Michelle fixed him with a serious expression. 'You look like you could use something a little stronger than coffee. Unfortunately the drinks are all upstairs.'

'Ah, I'm fine really,' Tony told her. He settled on a table and forced himself to sip his coffee. It was just as revolting as before. He kept his expression neutral, earning another peal of laughter from Michelle.

'Ms Dessler, I should've known you'd be at the coffee machine,' said an irritating female voice. 'The meeting starts in five minutes; I need you to send your work over to Raymond.' The sparkle died in Michelle's eyes, replaced by a hard expression. She got up and left without a backward glance in his direction.

Tony found himself gazing at the cup she had abandoned. He picked it up carefully with his own and headed over to the conference room. It was still deserted, which suited him fine. Chappelle would sit in his usual spot at the head of the table, which meant Alberta Green would sit beside him. He chose a spot far to the other side of the table and placed his cup next to Michelle's. 'Please God let her sit next to me' he prayed.

People began filing in. Most were heads of departments at Division, only vaguely familiar to him. One woman nodded her head in his direction, he nodded back politely. The cup indicated the place beside him was taken, and no one attempted to sit there. Presently Chappelle himself entered and began the meeting. Where was Michelle, he wandered? Surely her boss hadn't prevented her from attending?

'Almeida?' Chappelle was asking. Tony shook his head to clear it. 'I asked where Mason was' Chappelle said.

'He's sick, so I'm here representing him' Tony replied. 'He briefed me fully on what he wanted to say.'

Chappelle nodded and opened a folder. 'Pay attention, Almeida. Focus. This is not good enough,' Tony told himself sternly. 'So you met a beautiful woman. You don't even know her. Hell, you'll probably never know her. And CTU is counting on you.' He resolved to forget about Michelle till after the meeting.

The door opened, and she rushed in, glancing rapidly round the table. Tony hurriedly pulled out her chair and she sat down beside him. He pushed her coffee towards her. His efforts were rewarded with a grateful smile, he felt his heart melt. She really was sitting next to him.

The first part of the meeting concentrated on Division's internal management. He allowed himself to drift. She was taking notes on lined paper with a blue pen; she occasionally twirled it round in her fingers. Every so often she took small sips from her mug, once licking a stray drop from her lips. He gazed at her spellbound.

'Almeida, are you ok with that at CTU?' Green asked. The room fell silent, expecting a reply. Tony forced himself out of his reverie. What had Green asked? 'Ah, could you say that again?' he had to ask. Green threw him a scornful look.

'Almeida, please try and pay attention, otherwise we'll all be here for a lot longer than necessary,' Chappelle told him. He apologized and Green repeated her question about leaving office furniture in place another year before replacing it. He argued a little for form's sake but saved his real argument for later.

Tony caught Michelle sneaking a glance at him, and watched her face turn shy and her expression focus on the table. A stray curl came loose from her pony-tail and brushed across her cheek. It took all his will power to prevent his fingers reaching out and tucking it behind her ear. The long hours at work must be affecting him, he decided. Never before had he felt anything similar towards a stranger.

Michelle coughed and suddenly sniffed. She searched her pockets for a handkerchief but her fingers came out bare. Tony reached into his trouser pockets and pulled out a couple of tissues, passing them over to her. She threw him another grateful glance to melt his heart. It also distracted him. His elbow knocked his mug off the table, and it crashed to the floor, shattering into several pieces.

The entire room stared at him. Chappelle looked annoyed. 'Almeida, you're distracting everyone again. Something tells me you're not attending to this meeting as closely as you should be. I wander whether you're aware which point we were just discussing?'

Tony chewed his lip, having no idea which point they had reached. Could they be at number six? According to the schedule they should be around there by now. He was just about to pick that point when Michelle saved him by placing three fingers on her tissue.

'We're at point three, Mr. Chappelle,' Tony answered confidently.

Chappelle threw him another stern glance and continued with the meeting. 'Thanks' his lips barely whispered, but she'd heard him, for she gave him a grin. The meeting dragged on. Tony wished he'd managed to drink more of his coffee before breaking the mug; he really could have used its help.

His point came up two hours later, around 10.00 at night. Division thought CTU had enough employees and refused to consider assigning anymore. Tony got up. 'Mr. Chappelle, since I took over Nina's position no one has been assigned to my old position. In effect I am doing both jobs. When George Mason attends meetings such as this I am also responsible for running CTU till his return. I've practically lived at the office for the past two months and still I'm behind in all my work. I've been forced to delegate tasks to others that they did not have the necessary security clearance for. Something's got to give soon. We need someone to fill my old position, and we need that person now. We really need another three people desperately.'

'You can have two' Chappelle decided on the spur of the moment. 'I'll find someone to transfer over later in the week to fill your old position.'

Tony sat down, amazed at how successful he had been. He didn't even have to argue for long. The meeting ended ten minutes later.

'You getting another coffee?' Tony asked her casually. To his intense disappointment Michelle shook her head.

'No, I'm heading off home. If I don't get some sleep soon I'll fall over right here.'

Tony nodded. 'I should probably get some sleep too. There's a million and one things waiting for me tomorrow.' They exited Division together and headed towards the car-park. 'Rough week at work?' he couldn't help asking.

'No, the same as usual. It's just my boss who makes it difficult' Michelle told him. 'You heard her. We just don't get our coffee-breaks, not even the ones we're owed. And woe betide anyone who's two minutes late back from lunch!' She pulled a funny face and he laughed.

'I never notice when people get back from lunch' he heard himself saying. 'And I spend more time at the coffee machine than anyone else in the office.'

'Well, it makes you a dream department head' she told him cheerfully. 'Goodnight, Tony, it was great meeting you.'

He nodded and watched her drive away. By now he was past wandering at his odd behavior, no longer surprised at how empty the car-park suddenly felt. His apartment also felt emptier than usual. Tony switched on the TV, but found himself unable to concentrate on any of the programs. He warmed yesterday's dinner and ate it, then gave up on the TV and went to bed. Sleep eluded him. After half an hour of tossing and turning he gave up his inner conflict, conceding victory to his heart. He powered his laptop up, and logged into CTU's server. He was going to see her face again! His laptop beeped at him. Tony frowned, checking what had gone wrong. A grin spread across his face as he stared at the monitor 'Michelle Dazzler'. He shook his head and corrected the spelling, being rewarded by a picture. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he pulled her file, reading it in great detail. Could she fill his old position? Actually, she was qualified enough. He sent her details to Mason with a note suggesting he request her, explaining she was young enough to train and fully capable of the job.

'Tony, I'll send you to more meetings, I don't know how you managed it, but you got both personnel we need,' Mason congratulated him the next morning. 'I wouldn't have expected Chappelle to send more than one.'

'I asked for three' Tony told him.

Mason looked thoughtful. 'I'll remember that next time. Oh, Tony, you asked for Michelle Dessler?'

Tony's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't dared inquire about his replacement for fear of disappointment. 'Yeah' he said, in a disinterested tone.

'I got an email from Ryan this morning. She agreed to a transfer. She'll start here next month. See you sort out her tasks.'

He threw himself into the job eagerly, determined to clear as much work as possible before her arrival. Michelle was going to have as easy a start as possible at CTU, and maybe she'd decide to stay.

Every night Tony counted down the remaining days till her start at CTU. He found a space for her desk directly across the floor from him, so he could watch her unobserved. He had moved a few people round to make way for her desk. Through his preparations he noticed Mason watching him.

'Almeida, is she really going to require that new computer,' Mason questioned, tapping the computer he set up. 'We only got three new ones this time. Don't you think _I_ would have needed a new model?'

Tony glanced up guiltily. He had persuaded the systems administrator to assign one of the machines to Michelle, hoping she'd be impressed. 'Ah, George…'

'Hm. And don't the network guys do this kind of thing normally?' He glanced pointedly at his watch. 'It's pretty late, Tony, you should get some rest.'

Tony nodded. 'I will. I've nearly finished the installation. The network guys are real busy this week, and I'd already finished for the day, so…'

'She won't be here for another week yet, Tony! Go home!'

That week had been the slowest of his life. He thought of Michelle whenever he had a spare moment. Would she have coffee with him in the mornings? Would she find a few minutes to chat to him? What if she wouldn't? What if she…? He forced himself to stop worrying. He had stared at the same page on his screen for the previous ten minutes without noticing it. He sighed heavily. Why would someone as lovely as Michelle even want to talk to him?

'Tony, you've been here so long I think I'll send you over to Division to take this confidential briefing to Chappelle,' Mason told him, catching him rubbing his eyes. 'Go through it with him and make a list of his suggestions.'

He moved eagerly, fighting to keep the smile off his face. Division seemed less imposing in the daylight. He handed his card to the guard at the gate and was assigned a pass. The glass doors opened for him. He walked in, glancing at the coffee machine. It stood in an empty room. Tony sighed heavily, having hoped she'd be there. Now when her boss had interrupted them she had walked down that corridor. Despite himself he glanced that way. Did he have_ any_ reason to go and find her? He couldn't think of a single one. Could he return to CTU having been so close and not seen her? No, he couldn't! He set off hesitantly along the corridor, entering a room filled with desks.

'Tony, hi' she greeted him, much to his relief. 'Come here for a minute.' She led him to her desk, grinning. 'What are you doing here?'

He found himself grinning back, delighted with his reception. 'Ah, I had to see Chappelle for something.'

'His office is upstairs,' she told him unnecessarily. She looked into his eyes, and he felt himself blush.

'Yeah,' he managed to say. 'I wanted to tell you, your desk is all set up.' He rubbed his face, wandering why his tongue failed him yet again.

'I'm looking forward to it,' she told him. 'I might see you at the coffee machine.' She gave him a shy smile.

Tony nodded. 'You will!' He lingered another moment.

'Tony, you better go see Chappelle now. Reception would have told him you're on your way.'

He said goodbye, thinking about her all the way to Chappelle's office.

* * *

Tony ran a hand over his eyes, rubbing them gently. His eyelids felt hard and his eyeballs stiff, a mark of utter exhaustion. He had lived with identical symptoms for several years during busy periods.

The strange thing was that when he did return home after a long day he wasn't able to fall asleep as soon as Michelle could. He would lie awake, wandering why that group they'd tracked and apprehended had turned so hostile as to want to harm others. When had they lost their humanity? Who was to blame? Only Michelle was aware he wandered about those questions. Nina had once told him 'they're dangerous, Tony, that's all you need to know.'

Michelle had come to join him just before dawn soon after she first moved in with him, as he sat silently on the couch, laying a hand on his hair. He had gazed at her tiredly, surprised she'd cared enough to stay and talk to him at that hour. 'Tough day?' Michelle asked, stroking his hair. He'd nodded. She wandered back to their room and emerged with a blanket which she draped over him, snuggling under the covers herself. 'Let's sleep out here then. Close your eyes, Tony. Just listen to our breathing.'

He'd closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the soft couch and being squashed beside Michelle. Their breaths filled the room together merging with the sound of a ticking clock. He'd done as she recommended, listening for each breath until he fell asleep.

He shook his head to clear it, wincing at the sharp pain in his neck. All he would need would be her beside him, to get him to lie down on the bed and close his eyes. He chewed his lip in silence. He would think about her some more.


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

Mason wasn't going to like what he had to say, Tony knew as he walked up the stairs to his office. There was little chance he would act on it either. Mason would follow whatever rules he received from Division blindly, still hoping for his promised promotion. Still, he was the current head of CTU, so Tony felt duty bound to share his latest lead.

'Come in,' Mason told him as he knocked. 'What's up, Almeida?'

'George, a guy I knew in the army called me just now. He's been observing a group from his neighborhood for a while and he is concerned they may be planning some terrorist activity. I've run a background check and they have some military experience between them, in particular in explosives. Today they've all been hanging out and have been down to the local shopping mall a few times. We should check it out!'

Mason sighed. 'Now Almeida, let's go through this again. You have no evidence, no legal reason to have run a background check in the first place, and besides it's not our job.'

'George, we're CTU. We monitor terrorists, remember.'

'Tony, I can ask Division, but you won't get permission to spy on a group with no known criminal activity. In the meantime I suggest you get on with your work.'

Tony sighed in frustration. Somehow Mason irritated him beyond words when he gave Division as an excuse for not pursuing a lead. He wandered over to the coffee machine and made a strong coffee in his cub's mug. 'Patience, Almeida,' he muttered to himself and returned to his desk. Concentrating on more mundane tasks proved beyond him, he glanced at Michelle a few times instead. 'God, she's lovely' he thought for the thousandth time.

He answered his ringing phone. Just as he had expected all along, it was Mason refusing to have anything to do with his lead. Well, he would go and take a quick look for himself then. Garcia was rarely wrong.

'Ah, Michelle,' he began, leaning over her desk.

Michelle gave him a welcoming smile that melted his heart. For a moment he gazed at her, unable to remember the reason he had interrupted her. Did he even have a reason this time? Yes, he did! 'I'm going to lunch, that is, I'm going to check on something someone said…'

'You're checking a lead you got from someone that Mason won't have investigated,' she concluded immediately.

'Yeah,' he replied, staring at the loose curl that hung on her cheek.

'Alone? Tony, it could be dangerous!'

'I'll be fine, don't worry. I'll take a look and come right back.'

'At least give me the address,' Michelle insisted. 'In case you need some help.' Tony took the paper and pen she handed him, feeling warm inside. She was such a good friend, she cared about his safety.

'It's a shopping mall outside LA. I'll take my cell with me. And I'm at lunch, ok?'

'Sure' she replied, giving him a grin. He thought of her smile as he drove to the mall. 'Careful, Almeida, remember Nina. Michelle is your best friend. Don't spoil it.' At least he could look forward to seeing her at work everyday, chatting to her, having coffee with her. His heart would break without her friendship by now. He was already too deeply committed, he thought grimly.

Garcia met him in the car-park. 'You sure took your time,' he remarked. 'You came alone!'

'It's the best I could do. Technically I'm not even supposed to be here. Now where is all the activity happening?'

'Underground car-park'. They headed towards it, keeping an eye out for any of the group. No one was in sight by the second level below ground. Tony noticed a few of the lights had been vandalized recently, broken glass lay underneath them. Something was wrong here, he could sense it. Why else would just one area of the underground car-park be blacked out? He sent Garcia for his torch. Now presuming a bomb was hidden on the level, where would it do most damage? He surveyed the car-park silently in torch light. At the end of the level, in the darkest spot, a pillar supported the weight of the building. He found himself moving towards it, walking behind it.

'That's their van,' Garcia told him, pointing to an abandoned looking van. Tony moved closer to it, sensing something amiss. How could he know the van looked abandoned rather than just parked? Yet why would anyone park in such dark so far away from the main entrance when there were dozens of better spots available. He circled the van wearily. An open door caught his attention. He opened it a little further and flashed his torch inside.

A nondescript wooden crate lay abandoned which he forced open. A large bomb lay concealed, large enough to demolish the entire shopping mall.

'Got it,' he said softly. Garcia came to stand beside him. Tony examined it closer as Garcia held the torch. 'It's not on timer. It is set to remote detonation.'

'They're not here anymore,' Garcia said. 'Kind of makes you wander how long they intend to leave this thing here to risk being discovered.'

'Not long' Tony whispered back. He called Mason at CTU, describing the bomb, and asking him to evacuate the shopping mall.

'Now you know the moment we do that they'll detonate the bomb, Tony' he said reasonably. 'Bomb squad is on the way, I'll put you through to Morris.'

'Morris, let me start disarming the thing' Tony said. 'I'm right here; you can talk me through it.'

Morris asked him to describe the inside in detail. 'Alright, Almeida, we'll start by disarming the detonator. Do you see a yellow wire?'

'Yeah' Tony replied and was instructed to cut it. He took a deep breath dreading being buried alive again. 'Garcia, stand at the entrance of this level and cover me,' he instructed, cutting the wire with his knife. Garcia left him alone in the darkness. He placed the torch between his knees. 'Ok, it's cut. I can hear something,' he exclaimed.

'They're trying to activate it,' Morris told him. 'Now carefully separate the red and blue wires. Cut the blue one when it is no longer in contact with the red. Hurry.' The last admonition was unnecessary; Tony hurried as fast as his shaking hands allowed. Separating the intertwined wires appeared to take forever. He slashed the blue wire carefully and picked up the cell phone.

'Done'.

'It's disarmed, Almeida. Now I suggest you get out of there as they'll be coming to check what went wrong soon. We'll be there in another 15 minutes.'

'Thanks, Morris.' Tony ended the call and began walking towards the exit. Footsteps made him pause. Several people approached his position, and there was no sign of Garcia. He moved behind a pillar and silently reached for his gun. He counted eight men, noting they were heavily armed.

They moved to examine the bomb. 'Someone damaged the detonator. Find him,' ordered a man in dirty jeans and a striped shirt. 'Bring him to me alive. I'll install a second detonator.'

Tony considered his options. Escape was impossible; he would be discovered by the men guarding the exit. The pillar he hid behind would conceal him only as long as it took the men to reach it. Very slowly he removed his cell phone and called Michelle. He heard her voice saying hello. He laid it on the ground. He had a slight chance of survival if they believed he had acted alone. Silently he crept to the next pillar. Should he shoot the man placing the new detonator to the bomb, he wandered? It was highly unlikely all the others would know how to place it. If he was lucky none of them would know and the bomb would remain disarmed, though the remaining men would kill him. If he was unlucky one of the others would simply blow them all up immediately. Morris would be there in 13 minutes. He decided to attempt to evade capture as long as he could.

Placing the new detonator took the men several minutes, whilst he crept silently from pillar to pillar. A bolt being drawn back stopped him abruptly. Two men stood in front of him directly in the darkness. 'Drop your weapon,' one ordered. His gun was aimed directly at his head. Tony threw his weapon slowly towards them. He was grabbed and pushed roughly to the leader who stood beside the bomb.

'Phone' demanded the leader. Tony's arms were held immobile by two men whilst a third held a gun against his temple.

'It's home,' he lied. 'It wasn't charged, so I left it.'

The leader stared at him for a moment. 'Who the hell are you? How did you find the bomb? Speak!' A fourth man smashed a rifle into his ribs. He felt a sharp crack together with strong pain as he breathed. 'Speak'. The rifle was smashed into his side in the exact same spot. 'Search him,' ordered the leader, and he felt hands pulling his wallet out.

'A Federal Agent, ah,' the leader told him, leaving the bomb to concentrate fully on him. 'So we're being monitored by the Feds, boys. But wait a minute; feds don't go round disarming bombs by themselves without cell phones. This guy's alone, I'm thinking. He isn't even wearing a Kevlar vest.' He grabbed Tony's shirt roughly. 'Who knows you're here?'

He shook his head. 'No one'. This time the rifle butt was smashed into his head. Tony saw stars and would have stumbled had he not been held immobile by the two men. A metallic taste filled his mouth, he spat blood.

'Who else knows you are here,' repeated the leader. Tony shook his head, glancing at his watch as he did so. Ten minutes till Morris arrived. Hurry up, Morris, he prayed silently. These men had to be delayed at all costs, but he wasn't certain how much longer he could hold out. 'Find out,' the leader ordered his thugs and returned to the detonator. 'And check round for a phone. He could be lying.'

Tony was dragged a few feet away and smashed on the head with the rifle. He was released at the same instant and sank to the ground, placing a hand out to break his fall. As soon as he attempted to rise he was kicked in his injured side. More ribs broke, he heard himself scream.

'What were you doing here?' demanded the man who had stood beside the leader at the bomb.

Tony managed to gasp out that he had been monitoring the group alone, before he received another kick in his side. Pain shot through his entire body. Through the roaring in his ears he heard the man instructing the thugs to show him how they dealt with spying feds. Someone stepped on his left hand, crushing it into the floor. One of the men left guarding the entrance to the level approached and handed over an iron bar. Tony heard laughter as the rod was raised and brought down onto his stomach. He curled himself into a ball to protect himself as best he could. Blows rained down on his back, legs, arms and ribs. He forced himself to ignore the pain and concentrate on the progress of the detonator. It appeared to be nearing completion again. Morris wouldn't make it in time, he realized. He would have to stop the group himself.

'..knows' Tony gasped.

'What?' demanded the second in command, leaning forward. 'Who knows you're here?' He held up a hand, stopping the beating. Tony mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, watching the man bend closer to him. With his remaining strength he pushed himself up, grabbing the man's firearm and shot the leader through the back. The gun slid out of his fingers and he sank back to the ground. It was picked up and aimed at him. Almost in slow motion he watched the trigger being pulled and felt a searing pain near the top of his ribs. Was he still alive? Once again the iron rod was picked up and his beating continued. He only felt a few more blows.

Hearing returned before his other senses. Tony heard his mother's voice talking to him quietly, though he couldn't make sense of the words. So he hadn't died. He drifted off. Later he heard her again and felt her hands stroking his hair. She was telling him he was going to be ok soon, that he should rest as long as he needed to. He tried to tell her he was ok but neither movement nor speech came to him. When he next came round the room was empty. He knew he wouldn't be left by himself for long yet he couldn't help feeling disappointed.

He heard his door opening and smelt a familiar perfume. Someone tiptoed towards his bed, leaned over him for a moment before settling in the large chair beside him. 'Hi Tony' said the voice hesitantly. His heart leapt. Michelle had come to visit him! He cursed his inability to communicate.

'They said you weren't conscious yet, so I thought I'd just look in on you. I know it's working hours, but I had this terrible headache so Mason excused me for the rest of the day.' She paused and examined his face.

'Please stay and talk a bit longer, Michelle' he attempted to say, but again nothing happened.

'They sure didn't spare you, did they?' she continued. 'You were real brave, Tony, and real stupid too. They could've killed you.' Her voice shook slightly. 'Anyway, I better go, in case someone calls me at home and I'm not there.' Slowly she leaned forward and stroked his cheek. 'I'll come see you tomorrow before work' she whispered and crept from the room.

A couple of seconds after she left his father entered the room. 'Wow, Tony, she sure is beautiful!' he began, settling in the chair Michelle had left. 'How come you never mentioned her?' He gently ruffled Tony's hair. 'Wake up now, Tony, open your eyes.'

Tony's thoughts were in turmoil. Michelle had visited him, Michelle had even stroked his face! She would come again tomorrow. If he remained unconscious he might even get fussed over again. Should he be awake she'd talk for a couple of minutes and go, and probably wouldn't visit again. No, he decided, he would stay as he was for another day. He dreamed about her as he drifted in and out of consciousness during the day.

'I don't understand why he hasn't come round yet,' he heard a doctor telling his mother later that afternoon. 'He should have, by now!'

'Damn' he thought, 'this guy will certainly blow my cover! Won't you defend me, mom?'

His mother didn't disappoint him. She frowned at the doctor. 'Dr, my son has been shot, beaten almost to death, operated on, and is being pumped full of God only knows what concoction of chemicals,' she pointed to the drip in his arm. 'so give him a break. He'll come round when he's ready.' The doctor exited the room in a hurry, after promising to check on him later.

Pain woke him that night, stabbing through his side with every breath. Tony tried to ignore it for a while but it grew stronger. He moved restlessly, sending hundreds of pin pricks through his ribs. The pain made him groan. 'Tony' his father said, concerned. 'I'll call the doctor. Open your eyes, tell me what's wrong.'

'I thought that would wake you up,' the doctor told him satisfied, examining him minutes later. 'I cut his morphine by 50' he said. 'I'll order something for the pain' he told Tony and left. A nurse brought something for his I.V. and left him alone.

'Tony, you scared us,' his father said softly.

'I know, Papa, I'm sorry' he replied, hating the weakness in his voice.

'We saw you just the day before, at the picnic, and then your mom got a call from a young lady named Michelle, saying you were in surgery.' He paused to regard Tony quizzically. 'I take it the young lady I saw leaving your room yesterday is Michelle?'

Tony blushed and nodded. 'Yeah.'

'So how come we haven't heard about her yet, Tony?'

'Oh, Papa, there's nothing to tell,' he protested rapidly. 'She works directly under me, she's good at what she does and we talk sometimes. She won't come to visit once I'm conscious.'

'You sure about that?' inquired his father.

'Yeah,' he replied. 'That blasted doctor had to ruin everything. She was going to come tomorrow around 8.00. Now she'll know I'm ok so she won't come.' He sighed heavily.

'And how would she know you're awake?' questioned his father, curiously.

'Coz she'll have called a dozen times by 8.00' Tony answered sadly.

'Just a colleague, ah!' remarked his father.

* * *

Tony sat on the edge of the bed with closed eyes, remembering her next visit. He had persuaded his father to go outside for a little air and let him see Michelle alone. She came in the morning before visiting hours, using her CTU card to gain admittance. 'Hi, Tony. How are you today?'

His heart ached. How he longed to hear her say the same sentence to him right now. He would tell her he was not ok, he was exhausted, his neck was throbbing again, his hands hurt and he felt the walls closing in on him, crushing the life out of him. He sighed aloud. Who was he kidding? If she came right now he would tell her he was fine, forcing a calm expression onto his face. He had always tried to hide what he couldn't help considering as weakness from her, pretending he was fine no matter how sick he was. She had never believed his assurances, taking him to the doctor whenever he felt really awful. Her words rang in his ears.

"Sweetheart, get up. I'm taking you to the doctor. No, don't bother telling me you're fine, you're not."

"I'm fine, Michelle, honestly. I've only got a sore throat."

"Tony, your fever's over 105. That's NOT fine. Don't argue, I've already made you an appointment! I'll help you dress."

Despite grumbling he had enjoyed the attention. 'Would she ever get to take him to the doctor again?' he wandered. He seriously doubted it.


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

From his position in Mason's office, Tony had a perfect view of Michelle talking to Craig. Her eyes lit up as they both laughed. He stood much too close to her, handing her a cup of coffee. Behind his back his fists clenched. That was _HIS_ job. Craig was rewarded with another smile. He handed something else to Michelle; Tony strained his eyes to make out a Mars bar. That earned yet another smile from Michelle. Tony let out a strangled cry of frustration.

'Are you ok, Almeida?' inquired Mason, gazing down at the two on the ground.

'Yeah,' he managed to reply.

'Good, then I suggest we make a start right away.'

Tony gave a nod and left his boss's office. He settled at his desk sick at heart. Could Michelle possibly be interested in Craig? Well, he hadn't exactly given her much encouragement himself, had he? Angrily he called up his work. What exactly did Craig have that he didn't? Former fighter pilot, six medals for bravery, one for exceptional courage…… Damn! He didn't really stand a chance. He barely noticed he missed lunch as he watched Michelle whilst he worked.

As he glanced in her direction yet again he was surprised to find her desk empty. Where could she be? His eyes searched CTU's main floor. Ah, she was heading in the direction of the coffee machine. Just as he was about to rise, he saw Craig heading there. Tony snatched up a file he had been meaning to pass to Michelle and strode into the kitchen. They stopped chatting to look at him.

'Here you are, Michelle,' he heard himself saying. 'I guess I should just bring your computer here, you spend that much time in the kitchen.'

Michelle's face darkened, she snatched the file. 'Guess two coffee breaks in nine hours is too much, Tony! I'll do it now.' She strode off, not sparing him a second glance. Tony followed her out, horrified. What had he done? She wouldn't even look at him now. She remained at her desk for the next three hours, head down, working furiously.

Mason came to inquire about the progress of the report he had handed Tony in the morning. He expressed displeasure to find it incomplete. 'Give me a break, George. I'm working on it.' Mason left, followed by the majority of the staff. Michelle remained at her desk, typing something into the computer.

Tony rose. He wandered over to her desk and took a deep breath. 'Hey, I'm sorry, ok? I've just got George breathing down my neck all day.'

He watched her look up and read mild annoyance on her face. So she was still mad at him, he had to try harder. 'Would you please have a coffee with me? I've only had breakfast all day.'

Michelle stared at him for a moment before rising and following him to the kitchen. He made two coffees and handed her a mug. 'I got something else for us' he told her, pulling open a cupboard and reaching in behind a stack of dishes. He withdrew a packet of chocolate biscuits. 'Have some with me?' He glanced at her, pleading with her to forgive him.

'Sure' she replied eventually. Tony's eyes lit up, he grabbed two plates and laid the packet on the table between them. He appeared to be out of the doghouse, he thought.

'Why was Craig just changed to the evening shift?' Michelle inquired, chewing a biscuit.

'Ah,' Tony began. 'They really needed him there, not enough analysts.'

'Top analysts are rarely sent to that shift,' she argued.

'Michelle he was needed there. We'll get someone who really wanted to change shifts to replace him. What?' he questioned, seeing her skeptical expression. 'He was really needed there.'

'Just like Tom, Steve and Jake were?' she questioned.

'Yeah,' he replied, rubbing the side of his face. Damn, he had hoped she would have forgotten them by now. 'What are you doing on the weekend' he asked her, hoping to change the subject.

'I'm going camping to the Eagle Mountains,' she told him. 'My Dad used to take us there every year, my brother and me. I still go there around the same time to think about him'.

Tony nodded, unable to imagine not having his own father around. 'Who are you going with? Your brother?'

Michelle shook her head. 'No, he's kind of occupied with something else. I'm going by myself.'

Tony looked startled. 'You're not seriously going camping all alone at this time of year? It's not even holiday season, there might not be anyone around except you.'

'I'm counting on it,' she told him, giving him another of her smiles. He felt his heart melt. 'Dad always tried to avoid lots of other campers. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I'll take my gun.'

She might be alright with going camping entirely by herself in a large national park, he thought as he prepared some dinner, but he was not. A hundred scenarios ran through his head, all with Michelle ending up hurt and alone. He put the dinner in the oven and went into the bedroom, found his tent, sleeping bag and back- pack. He packed it carefully for the weekend, plenty of food, water, coffee, his portable gas cooker and a first aid kit. He laid them carefully near his front door, and called his mother. He would not be able to go to dinner the following evening as he was going camping. She wouldn't be terribly impressed, he knew.

She wasn't. 'Camping? In this weather? Who are you going with?' He told her he was going by himself. The phone was handed to his father. Tony sighed. They weren't making it easy.

'So she's going camping, Tony?' his father inquired, once again guessing at the situation. 'Are you going with her?'

'Ah' he began, not sure what answer would be best. If he said yes his father would hope that maybe he had gotten together with her, but if he said no…

'Tony, why couldn't you just tell her you'd go with her?' his father asked with a deep sigh. 'She'll be real mad if she sees you following her.'

'Papa, I'm not some kind of nut, I just don't think its real safe for her to go alone. And she won't see me.'

He set off in the morning, driving a couple of hours till he reached the park. Now to find Michelle. He opened his laptop and called up satellite images of the park. She was parked at the furthest end. He drove slowly, enjoying the view. Tony parked his car on a tiny track that led nowhere and gathered his things together. He would place them under some bush and find her.

Michelle had set her tent up by the time he arrived. They would have been pleased with her in the army, he thought, noting how neatly she had unpacked everything. Presently Michelle opened a lunch-box and ate a sandwich. Tony opened his own back-pack and ate his lunch. Michelle finished first, replacing her lunch-box in the tent. She set off at a rapid pace, uphill. Tony hurried after her, wishing she had chosen a different route. Where could they be going he wandered? Up to the top of the mountain, by the looks of it. Five minutes later Michelle paused, seemed to hesitate and retraced her steps. He dived into the nearest bush just seconds before being discovered.

A hundred thorns embedded themselves into him, scratching him along his exposed flesh. It took all his self-control to keep silent. She passed just a couple of feet away from him, unaware of his presence, returning to fetch a jacket from her tent. Once again she passed almost next to him, and set off up the mountain. Slowly he removed the thorns pinning him inside the bush and followed her, pulling thorns out as he walked.

About half-way up the trail Michelle paused, then seemed to head downhill picking her own path. What could have possessed her father to walk that way, he wandered. A mountain goat would have found the route challenging. Soon he lost her, following carefully to avoid a fall. He arrived at the bottom of the hill and stopped in surprise. The place was truly lovely. The valley was sheltered from the wind and already a few flowers were opening. Maybe Michelle's father hadn't been totally mad, after all.

Michelle sat a little further away on a flat rock, crying silently. Suddenly he felt like an intruder. The place was safe enough; he had no right to spy. He returned to the tent, and set about opening up his own a mile further, where he could keep an eye on her tent and remain undiscovered. Now where was his first-aid kit? A couple of the thorns had gone in too deep to be removed by hand. With a sigh he remembered he had left the whole box in his car, considering it too heavy to carry. He would have to go back for it.

Leaving everything, he set off to his car, retrieving the box from the boot. He removed the few deep thorns cursing in Spanish before applying some antiseptic cream to the deeper gashes. Replacing everything, he locked his car and decided to walk past Michelle's to check all was well.

Tony almost walked into four hooligans beside Michelle's car. They had the driver's door and the bonnet open and were in the process of hot-wiring the car. Another minute and they would drive it away. His right hand automatically felt for his gun before he remembered he'd left it with his tent. He took a deep breath. This was Michelle's weekend, she had come here seeking peace, and she would get it! He walked out into the clearing.

'What the hell are you doing?' he inquired. All four gazed at him. 'Leave that car alone now.'

'That your car?' one asked, as they all moved closer to him.

'Yeah' he replied, refusing to mention Michelle. For a moment he hoped they'd get into their car and drive away, but instead they continued to approach him.

'Want to give us the keys?' one of the tougher looking thugs asked him. They had surrounded him by this time, eyeing him menacingly.

'Not really,' he replied, preparing to take them all on. As far as he could tell none carried guns.

'Tough guy, ah?' one remarked. 'Think you're Rambo?'

He grinned dangerously. 'Something like that.' Well, he was going to have to be, he decided, as there was little chance of anyone coming to his assistance.

They paused a moment before one laughed into his face and attempted to punch him in the jaw. He side stepped easily and caught the man's fist, slamming his own into it. His attacker spun to the ground. The other three rushed him simultaneously. Tony used his Krav Maga training to knock them to the ground repeatedly, but he was considerably outnumbered. One thug pulled a knife on him, slashing the air just above his eyes. He was forced to grab it and hauled it away as far as he could. During that time three thugs tackled him to the ground, kicking and punching him. He pushed himself up, kicking one man hard in the face. 'One down, three to go, Almeida,' he told himself. He kicked one of them in the stomach, watching him lie groaning on the ground. At that moment he received a heavy blow from a large stick lying on the ground by one of the remaining two. It knocked his breath away. Tony grabbed the stick as it was raised to hit him in the stomach and yanked it away from the hooligan, using it on him. Three men lay groaning on the ground, and the fourth began to back away.

Tony took a few deep breaths to force the world to stop spinning before him. He pointed to their car. 'Get into that and get lost. Now!' To his intense relief they did as he ordered. He looked slowly round the clearing to search for any remaining clues. Nothing showed of the confrontation. He lowered Michelle's bonnet and closed her driver's door. It would never do for the battery to run down.

He spent the rest of the day watching both the car and Michelle, relieved the thugs didn't return. His body ached, and he kept finding thorns in places he had already checked before. It seemed as though there was no end to them. As soon as he removed one, he would discover another underneath it. He felt a little sorry for himself.

The sun set early and the night turned chilly. Tony hoped Michelle was warm enough in her tent. He pulled on a jumper and jacket, warmed up the remains of last night's dinner he had brought in a plastic lunch-box, wiped the saucepan carefully with some tissues and ate outside. The full moon shone down on him, lighting the area as far as Michelle's tent. Once he saw her light go out he climbed into his own tent, leaving the flap open. He unrolled his sleeping bag and settled on the floor. It was fun camping, he hadn't camped since the army; he just couldn't help thinking how much better it would have been if she had invited him to go with her. They could have spent the evening talking, sitting around a campfire.

He wandered what she was thinking about. She talked about Danny often enough but never mentioned her parents. She must be thinking about them, he supposed. Or she could also be worrying about Danny, knowing her. He wandered how someone as smart and beautiful could have such a fruitcake for a brother as Danny. If he had a brother as nutty as that he would certainly deny the relationship!

He closed his eyes, enjoying the sound of the night insects. She was listening to them too! He wished he would look more like Craig, Tom, Steve or Jake. They would certainly not be pulling thorns from their arms by themselves in a dark tent in the winter, they would be sitting beside her, telling her some funny story, real or otherwise, making her laugh. What could _he_ tell her about? Howling blizzards? Who wanted to hear about that, especially in the winter? Swirling sandstorms? Pulling stranded vehicles out of soft sand in 104 degrees? How could that compare with flying the latest fighter plane? He sighed deeply. 'Don't even bother trying, Almeida. At least she's still your friend.'

Not that she would remain his friend for much longer if he continued transferring everyone who spent time chatting to her. After all, she had asked about Craig! Sure he was on the night shift now, but they could still potentially meet if she stayed late to finish something up. He wandered fleetingly if CTU Anchorage had any openings for class one analysts. 'Forget it, Almeida. First you got to face George. He's _not exactly_ going to be impressed losing Craig!' He sighed, wandering what reason he could give on Monday.

Fortunately the weather turned colder and Michelle returned to LA after breakfast on Sunday. He drove home rapidly and ran a cool bath to soothe his numerous scratches and his sore back, which sported a dark purple bruise. On Monday he called in sick, spending the day on the couch watching videos.

'Hi, Tony, I'm glad you're better,' Michelle greeted him on Tuesday morning. She gave him a smile to melt his heart. 'I was worried about you. What happened to you?' she cried, seeing his face.

'Ah, I was helping my friend remove a few bushes,' he replied. 'Guess gardening's not my thing.'

'It doesn't appear to be,' she told him. 'Didn't you try clipping it first?'

Tony grinned at her, enjoying her attention. 'There wasn't time,' he said, truthfully. 'Anyway, I'm fine. How was your weekend?'

'It was great. You should see what it's like, camping all alone in the mountains. It's real peaceful. Sometimes you need to get away from it all.'

He nodded. 'Sometimes. Are you going camping again this winter?' He desperately hoped the answer would be "no."

'Not this winter, no. I've got many friends to catch up with here in LA.'

'Anyone I know?' he asked, feeling a pang of jealousy.

Michelle laughed. 'I doubt it. They're old high school friends. There's a group of us who always kept in contact. Its real good fun. Claire, she sat next to me in chem., she's got a new boyfriend she's gonna bring on Saturday. She says he's charming. I can't wait to see!' He nodded, smiling at her, wishing he could go with her. 'What about you? What are you doing on Saturday? Fixing broken pipes in your parents' place?'

He grinned at her, shaking his head. 'That was two weeks ago. I've been asked to help tidy out their garden shed. It's so full of junk we can't find anything in it now.'

'You really should go out and have fun sometime, Tony,' she told him seriously.

'Yeah,' he said.

* * *

He wandered back to his basin for more water, swallowing slowly. His fever wasn't going any further down. Tomorrow he would be quite sick, he could feel it. He would have to ask for some aspirins when they brought him breakfast. The last thing he wanted was for him to be prevented from attending his bail hearing as a result of his fever.

He settled on the bed, leaning against the wall and pulling the thin sheet around him. His head rested on his knees. He longed for a hug from Michelle, or some attention from his parents. Once again he felt completely alone. His eyes roamed over his cell, lingering on each square inch of the floor. Long straight lines dissected the entire area, a reflection of the bars. Tony gazed at them in silence, wandering how many months he would spend locked in there, counting them. He felt the stirring of mild panic.

'Close your eyes, Almeida,' he ordered himself, determined not to lose control. 'You're getting out of here. Take it one step at a time. Walk over to the door.' He forced himself to imagine walking to the door. 'You've got the access card. Pull it through the lock. Good. Now walk down the corridor. Don't hurry, they can't see you. Now remove that second access card and put it through the door. Push it open. Walk down the corridor. OK, you're at another door. Find the card, slide it through. It's quite okay, there's no guards around. Now you're in the main lobby. Keep going. The guard at the desk can't see you. Open the door and walk outside. Keep moving across the courtyard. Now you're at the wall. Walk straight past the guards in the booth. You've got a card to unlock this last door. Is it open? Good. Now push it shut behind and run like hell! You're going home!' He pictured the streets along the route, pictured entering his apartment and hugging Michelle.

He lay down, pulling the sheet over him, and closed his eyes.


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

Tony stood on his balcony, enjoying the view. The week had been worse than usual, ending with the death of Mason and seeing him promoted director of CTU, a position he never in his wildest dreams imagined he'd achieve. It had also brought him Michelle. His eyes lit up in a gentle smile as he crept back to his living room, where Michelle lay asleep, hair spread out on his pillow. Taking care not to wake her he planted a kiss on her forehead, tiptoeing outside the room. He closed the door quietly and went into the kitchen. He was going to cook dinner for them tonight.

It was strange, he thought as he prepared the dinner, how much nicer his apartment appeared these last few days. The furniture was the same, the decorations were the same, yet something intangible _had_ changed. He no longer returned only when he was exhausted, he was happy to return. It was his home suddenly, a place to invite his friend, his best friend in the whole world.

He carried the plates out quietly to the dining room, finding the table cloth he'd bought just yesterday. He stopped to review it in silence, noting the place actually looked like people were eating meals there. It was a far cry from eating on a tray on the coffee table, watching TV. Tonight he didn't have to turn the TV on for background noise; he had someone to talk to him.

'Hi, Tony,' Michelle said, appearing with a sleepy look in her eyes. 'Oh, that looks great. Did you cook dinner again?'

'I did,' he answered, watching her reaction carefully. What if she hated the food?

Michelle gave him tight hug. 'Tony, it's incredible. Look at it; you got all the knives and forks laid just like in a restaurant.'

'Of course I did. You're here,' he said, unable to explain himself better. Unable to tell her he would have worked hard the entire day just to get a smile from her, to impress her.

'Even the napkins… It's great. "Such attention to detail", as Chappelle would say.'

Tony burst out laughing. 'Honey, "attention to detail is the key to success."'

'Where did you hear that?' Michelle asked, laying a hand on his shoulder. He allowed himself to be turned round, bending down for a long kiss. 'Come on, tell me. Someone at CTU?'

'No, before that. In the army,' he said, pulling her chair out for her. 'Let's eat now.'

'Come on, Tony, you never told me _anything_ about the army. Who was so keen on detail?' Her eyes sparkled, shining with anticipation.

Tony laughed, watching her. She was his. He still couldn't quite believe it. Michelle loved him as much as he loved her. Her smile was for him, looking deep into his eyes, teasing him. His breath caught in his throat.

'Tony, you're dreaming.' Michelle leant forward to give him a gentle shake. 'Wake up. Tell me who was so keen on detail. I want to know!'

He shook his head, grinning, enjoying her frustration. 'You don't want to know that, honey.'

'TONY, stop teasing! I do,' Michelle begged, sensing a story. 'I want to know _everything_ about you. Tell me about the guy in the army who loved detail.'

'Ah, it was in the sniper school. We could all shoot real well, hit anything. He decided to train us in the real world, out in town. He stationed us along a pedestrian mall, and we were supposed to stay where he put us and wait till he came walking down, and shoot at him. Not real bullets, of course, it basically would've just made a noise. It was a warm day, and we waited and waited, and he didn't come. After a while we got real bored. My partner went to get a few cokes, and then this street juggler came, and he was SO good. He had about a dozen green balls and never dropped any, and …'

'Did you miss your instructor?'

'Honey, we all missed him, except for one guy, who was unfortunate enough to bump into him with an armful of burghers. He walked straight down the mall in his uniform, and none of us noticed him!'

'So what did he say to you guys?' Michelle asked, eating her dinner, watching him with interest.

Tony sighed. 'He said what I just did, "attention to detail is the key to success." He kept us out the_ entire_ night, in a row, repeating that single sentence.'

Michelle's eyes lit up. 'I wish I would've seen you then, Tony. You would've looked so cute!' Tony's heart skipped a beat. She thought he was cute! 'But don't stop. You slept all the next day?'

'Now Michelle, we need to watch some army videos tonight, not that sentimental stuff you brought last night. You _never_ get to sleep all day unless you're dead! No, he kept us out till 4:30, and our DI took us out for training at 7:00, and I had KP in between!'

'What did you do to get that?'

Tony got up, and kissed her firmly on the lips, cutting off any further words. He ran his hand through her hair, brushing it to one side. 'You look so lovely.' The words came out unexpectedly, making him blush. Michelle rewarded him with a deeper kiss.

'Tony, where's the coffee and cake?' she teased.

Tony paused with his armful of dishes, turning to face her. 'Honey, I'm sorry, I didn't have all the ingredients, so…'

'Tony, I was joking! Some cookies would be fine.' She jumped up in alarm. 'You've made more than I would've cooked in a year. You were great.'

He shrugged. 'It was for you.' Maybe if she liked the dinner, she would come again. He longed to ask her to have dinner with him the next day, but didn't want to crowd her. 'Ah, would you like to stay and watch a video with me? You can choose,' he asked her, not daring to look at her, to see the rejection in her face.

'I'd love to. But we'll have to go and get something from the video library, Tony, coz yours are all really violent, and I get that all week anyway.'

'Ok,' he agreed, grabbing his keys. His heart was bursting inside, he could barely stop smiling. She was going to spend a little longer with him. 'Pick anything you like, Michelle, only not another sentimental romance. I couldn't watch another this soon.' The moment he said it terror struck him. What if she decided she'd go home after all? 'I mean, if you really wanted to, I could try…'

'Tony, you didn't watch much of it last night, you know. You fell asleep real soon.'

Tony grinned sheepishly. The week at work had been the busiest he could remember. CTU's clean-up fell to him. Retrieving whatever was possible from the damaged workstations fell to him. Organizing flowers and cards, and calling the families of the dead fell to him. The first of the funerals would begin the following week, and he wasn't sure how he would get through it. He had been in the office five days without returning to rest more than once. He had occupied himself so totally with work because he dared not leave himself time to remember what had happened. If he was honest with himself, he would be there now too; sitting in his office staring at the empty space now cleared of rubble but not yet redecorated. Michelle had grabbed him two nights ago, reminding him of dinner and a movie. He had returned to his apartment intending to clean it up a little and plan something to cook for her, but had collapsed onto his bed instead, crying himself to sleep. His sleep was filled with nightmares of explosions with him attempting to pull bodies out. At least he had her visit to focus on the following day, giving him a reason to get up, tidy up, and leave the apartment to do a little shopping. His pain slowly faded to the background.

Michelle looked as though she had grieved every day since the explosion. She had eaten the dinner he prepared and they had watched the video she had brought. The romantic couple failed to capture his imagination. Michelle had sat beside him on the couch – he had pulled her closer and she had stroked his hair, soothing away his hurt, just as he soothed her. When he next woke up he was lying alone on the couch, tucked up in his blanket. She called him soon after, laughing at him for having slept so long. He found himself refreshed, and risked asking her to dinner again, and she had agreed and come to join him later that day.

'Let's walk,' she told him. 'If you keep feeding me that much, Tony, you'll have to come walk with me too, or I won't fit any of my clothes.'

'Sure' he agreed cheerfully. He would walk anywhere with her, he knew. He locked the door and followed her to the lift, and outside. It was dark and quiet. He reached for her hand, pleased at how firmly her fingers closed over his. Now he was like the other couples he'd watched from his balcony, enviously. A deep peace he'd never experienced settled over him. He loved Michelle totally – he would protect her with his life. He would _need_ to protect her; she was too willing to stand by her beliefs.

He squeezed her hand tighter. 'You risked a lot, sticking by me,' he said softly, remembering how her hand had taken his under the table in the holding room. 'I won't forget that.' (I'll remember it always, sweetheart. I knew you really loved me then, when I was at rock bottom and you stood by me.)

Michelle stared at him in amazement. 'Tony, I told you before, I stick by what is the right thing to do. _I_ got you into that mess. Do you really think I'd abandon you? They would've given you less, if there were two of us.'

Tony shook his head. 'No, sweetheart, they would've given us both a life sentence. We got lucky.' He chewed his lip, remembering his guilt when she had been brought in to join him, hands cuffed behind her back. He had decided that he would protect her whatever it took, take the entire blame himself, sign anything if they would drop their charges against her. Hearing her question about their likely punishment he had told her what he planned, to try to ease her fears, but she had amazed him yet again, refusing to let him lie for her.

'Tony, I'll remember how you insisted I had nothing to do with it when Chappelle came in,' she said, shaking her head. 'After I told you…'

Tony slipped his arm around her shoulders, turning to kiss her. There was _no way_ he would have allowed anything to happen to her, whatever she said, but he knew better than to tell her.

'Let's forget about it,' he told her, leaving his hand on her shoulder.

She nodded. 'It would've been real tough.'

'Yeah. At least my parents get spared the shame of going to see their son in jail. And the embarrassment in front of all their friends.'

They walked to the end of the street, coming upon a side street with several shops. 'Tony, I saw your father in the corridor, when you were in hospital,' Michelle admitted softly. 'He seemed real nice.'

Tony nodded, holding open the store's door for her to enter. 'He is. My mom's very nice too. I'd love you to meet them one day. Now go pick some sentimental slush, before I change my mind and pick a thriller about some homicidal nutcase.' He wandered off to look at some thrillers, while Michelle went into the romance section. Soon she returned, holding two tapes, a smile on her face.

'These are both real good. Do you mind if we get both?' She glanced hesitantly at him. He found himself grinning back at her.

'You expect me to sit through _two_ of these! Michelle, they're both the same! There's no story, just two people who meet, fall in love and get married. That's all!'

Michelle shook her head firmly, chewing her lips to contain her smile. 'No, Tony, there's lots more to them. You left out the quarrel. Couples always quarrel in these films; it makes it all the sweeter when they reunite!'

Tony shook his head, puzzled. 'I don't see why a quarrel is necessary.'

Michelle put the tapes firmly into his hand. 'It just is, trust me. They need to, so they can reunite and see how much they love each other.'

Tony shrugged. 'If you say so. I guess my parents are real close then,' he said mischievously. 'They argue every day. My mom always has some job my father doesn't want to do – but she always wins in the end, and he does what he's told!'

They laughed together, Tony pulling out his library card. 'Tony, I'll let them know you said that,' Michelle teased.

He pulled her towards him firmly. 'Try that, and you won't get either video. We'll get something like this one,' he pulled a case out at random, glancing at its back cover, 'a guy who gets turned into an insect.'

Michelle pulled an alarmed look onto her face, holding a finger to her lips. 'My lips are sealed' she said.

'That's better,' he agreed, taking out the tapes. The man behind the counter threw him a sympathetic look as he handed them over. 'And now a short stop at the drug store, for a packet of tranquilizers, to help me cope with such exciting movies.' Michelle punched him on the arm.

'Ow,' he complained, rubbing the spot. 'We've only been going out a week, and already you're beating me up! I guess my father's lucky after all. He just gets to listen to,' Tony pulled a stern expression onto his face, pointing his finger in the air, "Marco, there you are. Have you cleaned out the gutter yet? You know it will rain this afternoon. Better get the ladder now."'

They giggled together, walking hand in hand. 'Poor guy,' Michelle said.

'No,' Tony told her. 'Someone's got to organize him. If he'd be a single guy he wouldn't notice if the weeds grew over the house. He likes to read on the weekends - would like to read,' he corrected himself.

'And you'd do as you're told too?' Michelle inquired, teasing him gently. 'Put down a book and go fix something, if your wife asked you to?'

Tony rolled his eyes at her, delighted to see her laugh. 'If she was pretty enough. If she smiled nicely, and kissed me, and…. Hell, if she fetched the broom I'd move.'

'I hope you've got a broom with a real long handle,' she teased, resting her face against his shirt. 'Your wife could stand in the middle of the room and chase you round.'

Tony laughed merrily. 'I'll change my broom to one with a real short handle. And I'd keep a bag packed, so I could escape easily. I'd go hide out at my parents place. No, not really. They'd just send me back. They both believe the woman is always right!'

'Smart people!' Michelle told him, squeezing his hand. He drew her closer to him. One of the curls had come loose from her ponytail; he tucked it gently behind her ear. He wanted to tell her just how lovely she was, her hair shining in the lamplight, her eyes sparkling at him, her lips soft and full, but he lacked the words. Maybe he should make some extra strong coffee and watch the two tapes with her, learn something. Gently he laid a finger under her chin, tilting her head up, and bent down to kiss her.

'We should get back to your place, Tony,' Michelle told him, stepping back a few minutes later. 'This type of behavior isn't encouraged on the street.'

He shook his head regretfully. Michelle took his hand again and he closed his fingers over hers, bending to pick up the bag. 'Wait a sec,' he said, going into a café and emerging a minute later with a box. 'It's not as good as I can make it, but it'll have to do.'

Michelle snuggled up to him on the couch after they finished their cakes, watching the movie spellbound, while he breathed in the scent of her perfume and shampoo and concentrated on the way her body rose and fell with each breath. 'It's a good movie really, isn't it? For a romance movie, I mean?'

'Sure' he agreed, feeling her hair against his face. 'It's fine!'

He awoke a few hours later, as she shook his shoulder firmly. 'Tony, wake up. The movie's over. I got to go home now; I've got something on real early.' She laughed at his sleepy expression. 'You done better this time, you made it till just before the end of the first movie. Pity you didn't see the second one, though. There's a real handsome guy, and he can say such lovely things to this girl he meets.'

'He can?' Tony asked, attempting to tidy his hair with his fingers. What a mess he must be, he thought in despair. No wander she wanted to leave.

'You look _SO_ cute when you wake up.' She leant forward, giving him a kiss on his forehead. 'Get some sleep. I'll see you on Monday.'

The doorbell woke him next morning, ringing repeatedly. He pushed the blanket from the couch, noting he must have fallen asleep over the second movie despite the strongest Colombian coffee he'd drunk. A few useful sentences lingered in his brain as he hurried to answer the door. Next time he saw Michelle he would be better prepared. He would know _exactly_ how to compliment her hair, her eyes… He opened his door, standing aside for his father.

'Hi, Papa. Am I late for something?'

'No, I just didn't see you all week, so I decided to check if you really are as fine as you keep insisting you are.' He settled in an armchair, gazing round in silence. Tony followed his father's eyes, seeing two coffee mugs, two plates with the remains of a cream cake on them, two forks, and oh God… He attempted to lift the video case from the table, but his father beat him to it. He stared at the cover in astonishment, while Tony's face grew hot.

'So, you finally asked the lovely Michelle out,' his father noted, pleased. 'I was beginning to think I'd have to go to CTU, take you by the hand, and ask her out for you. So what did you say?'

Tony rubbed his face hard, chewing his lips. 'Ah,' he began, falling silent under his father's scrutiny.

Mr. Almeida began to laugh. 'So, she had to ask _you_.' He shook his head slowly. 'Never mind, Tony, she'll stick with you. Just make sure you look after her.'

'I will, Papa. You know I will.'

* * *

And he had, he thought, jumping out of bed. He had let her down earlier in the day, never dreaming she was a target for kidnapping. He hadn't let her down since. She was his best friend, his wife, his responsibility. He would move heaven and earth to help her. His eyes gazed at the cold tiles on the floor. The life of everyone else in the nation was also his responsibility, and he had failed them.

"At least my parents get spared the shame of seeing their son in jail." He groaned aloud, raising a swollen hand to rub his face, before lowering it. 'No they won't, Almeida,' he muttered to himself. 'They'll be coming here for so many years; they'll feel right at home!'


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

He heard her returning with the pizza, laying the box on the coffee table in the living room, as he scrubbed the remaining pot. The door opened and she joined him in her kitchen, pursing her lips together. Tony wiped his hands in a dishcloth and drew her towards him, planting a kiss on her lips. 'Hey, sweetheart. You see, it wasn't so bad. I'm nearly done. Those pots are clean, and this one will be too, in another few minutes.'

'No way,' Michelle told him, lifting up a pot from among a pile of clean dishes in disbelief. 'Hey, it's actually clean! I would've just thrown them out!'

Tony shook his head, laughing at her expression. 'Like I said, honey, you wouldn't last a _day_ in the army. Pots _never_ get thrown away – never!' He resumed his scrubbing, watching her join him by the sink. 'Why throw them away, when you got a whole platoon full of guys. Someone will be on KP in the morning. He'll scrub them for you, and if he doesn't do a good job you yell at him. If he takes too long, it's his problem, you keep him right at the job. Don't listen to any hard luck stories. His DI can yell at him later, it's nothing to do with you!'

'Who, the cook?' she asked, beginning to smile. 'Do cooks burn pots too?' Tony bent forward, delighted to see he had managed to cheer her up. She had look so devastated when her dinner hadn't worked out.

'Honey, everyone who cooks burns stuff. But if you refer to our guy as a "cook" you'll find yourself right here, with me, scrubbing the sinks or something. His correct title is "mess sergeant". And believe me, he burns more stuff than anyone else I've ever seen.'

'Is this guy for real?' she asked, with an amused expression on her face, kissing Tony. 'Or did you just make him up, so I'd feel better?'

Tony threw her a cheeky grin. 'He's real, alright. Probably burning more stuff right now!'

'But how can a cook burn food?' she asked, snuggling closer to him, trying to pull another story from him.

Tony smiled and shook his head. 'No army tales remember. You can hear about Lieutenant Almeida, _not_ private Almeida!'

'But Private Almeida is so cute,' Michelle teased, completely happy again. 'He does such a great job in my kitchen.'

'Hm' Tony agreed, 'just as he should do. Honey, you _never_ praise a private on KP. Before you know where you are, he'd be asking for something to eat, trying to get you to believe he's hungry just because he had to miss dinner! No, if he's finished with the pots and cleaned the sink and the stove, then you ask him why he hasn't emptied the bins yet.'

Michelle burst out laughing, shaking her head in pure joy at the image. Her laughter infected him too. He laid down the pot, leaning against the sink, laughing with her. 'Honey, you're distracting the private. That's a real mean thing to do. After all, his DI will be out in the field by now with the rest of the platoon, and he'll be so mad with the unfortunate private, he'll put him right back on KP the next morning. And on his day off too, for the _entire_ day!

'No, if you're called Mess Sergeant Burns, you'll ignore the private while he's working, you'll prepare something for lunch, listening all the while to the horse race results on the radio from all round the world. After that you'll get out your exercise book and check to see your winnings, then look through the paper for the following day's races, and go to lay your bets and collect your winnings, leaving the pots unattended. Eventually you'll return, hopefully in a good mood, make some nasty comment to the private on KP, chat a few minutes with your two kitchen orderlies, and then trot off with the page of racing results to discuss them with some other mess sergeants. You won't spare a thought for the pots you're cooking lunch in, after all, the kitchen orderlies will stir them occasionally when they're not smoking outside, and hell, if they burn a little round the bottom, it's no big deal. DI Wills is your good friend, guaranteed to send someone to KP in the morning to clean them for you, probably that useless guy Almeida. You just leave the burned pans in a pile in the sink all day till he gets there next morning.'

Michelle was no longer able to stand straight. She leaned against the counter for support, laughing until the tears came from her eyes. Tony glanced critically at the final pot, placing it with the clean ones. 'Honey, you said something about pizza?' he asked, attempting to stop his own laughter. Michelle nodded, unable to speak, pointing with a shaking hand in the direction of the living room.

Tony cut them both a few slices of pizza, placing them on two plates. He felt happier than ever before in his life, delighted to have been invited to dinner on Tuesday, just a few days after she'd been to his place. So she couldn't cook, well, it was no big deal. He could, and he didn't mind doing so at all. In fact, he'd be thrilled to have her to dinner every night! It would be better for her too. He had noticed the lack of vegetables in her bin when he'd emptied whatever was movable from her pots. Her bin contained little else besides take-out packages. No, he would ask her to dinner as often as she'd come, even if it meant watching a romantic movie afterwards.

'Honey, you shouldn't laugh so hard when you're eating,' he told her, attempting to be serious. 'Lieutenant Almeida passed his first aid course that many years ago he's forgotten most of it by now, and he only barely scraped through anyway. So _don't_ choke!'

Michelle swallowed her mouthful carefully, laying her hand against his cheek. 'I wish I would've met you back then, Tony. It would even have been fun to scrub pots with you.'

Tony shook his head firmly. 'No, sweetheart, trust me, it wasn't so amusing then. It's not that great being yelled at whatever you do, sent to KP in the morning, training all day, sweeping the yard in the evening, and then being pulled up, sent to extra drill if you missed a leaf somewhere. It would've been a little easier, I guess, if my hair was a little lighter, and I had a name like Smith or Jones…' He paused, horrified. He had relaxed so completely he had allowed his guard to drop, allowed Michelle a glimpse at his deepest feelings, his lingering resentment, his insecurity. He grabbed the plates and the box and strode to the kitchen, wordless.

He heard her footsteps hurrying after him. Her hand rubbed his back while he turned the taps on, washing their plates, attempting to pull an impassive mask onto his face. 'Dammit', he thought furiously. 'What's wrong with you, Almeida? You've just shown her who you really are; you relaxed too deeply with her. You're gonna hurt real bad when she finds another guy.'

'Tony, look at me,' Michelle insisted, spinning him round to face her. 'Why did you go? We were talking.' She searched his face, reading nothing. 'They insulted you real bad, didn't they?' She reached up, attempting to pull some expression onto his face. 'It's ok now; I won't let anyone hurt you again!'

Tony gave a snort, removing her hand from his face. 'Honey, I'm not mad at my sergeant, I'm mad at _me_. I should've put it aside years ago.' He turned back to the dishes, chewing his lip. 'You just can't learn to keep your mouth shut, can you, Almeida? Now you've spoilt the evening! You'll be lucky if she spends five minutes over coffee with you at work from now on!'

'Forget the dishes, Tony,' she told him, rubbing his back firmly between his shoulders. Despite himself he began to relax a little. She must have felt some of the iron rigidity leaving his back, for she rubbed him even harder. 'Let's go for a walk. I love to show you off.' She took his hand, drawing him after her. 'You don't even realize how handsome you are, do you?'

He felt a smile creep across his face. He shook his head gently, still chewing his lip. 'Honey, I need to make you an appointment with an optometrist! OK, let's go for a walk. It's warm enough.' The walk would be just the thing to settle him, he knew. He would work off his tension, and maybe forgive himself his slip. She was still holding his hand; she just told him he was handsome. She really believed it too, he could read her face as easily as an open book. Maybe he hadn't driven her away after all.

'You busy after work tomorrow, Tony?' she asked him as they returned. She had entertained him with stories of her own childhood, making him laugh, helping him forget his slip, giving him back the confidence to hold her close, to kiss her. His love for her deepened by the minute. He resolved to work extra hard at keeping certain thoughts away, he could not risk loosing her.

'I've got something on until 7:30. Look, Michelle, we should both take a break from cooking.' He noted a flash of disappointment in her eyes. He cursed himself again. Why was he unable to talk to her without causing her pain? 'I mean, I'd like to take you out, to a real special place. I guess we're both ok with facing other people now.'

She nodded, giving him a smile that melted his heart. 'Tony, I really love you,' she told him, pulling his face down for a kiss.

Tony felt as though he would burst. 'Me too,' he whispered softly, before kissing her goodnight and rushing down the corridor.

As usual, he glanced up from his monitor, searching the floor for her the next morning. He had arrived early, hoping to complete a little more work before he would have to begin analyzing Intel. A few different plans for reconstructing CTU required his attention. By the end of the day he would have to make a decision, and they were all promising. His eyes lit up. Michelle had arrived; she was sitting at her desk. He couldn't help noticing her new blue top, contrasting so vividly with her hair. She had that loose curl again. His fingers reached forward to tuck it behind her ear, hitting the glass wall of his office. He laughed in amusement. 'Just as well you came in an hour early, Almeida! You're not gonna get much done for a while…'

His phone rang, startling him. 'CTU Almeida,' he answered, watching her hands moving deftly over the keyboard.

'Tony, have you decided which plan you prefer? I'll need to come down and give you my ok later this afternoon.'

Tony straightened rapidly. 'Mr. Chappelle. I'm about done now. You could come right after lunch.'

He heard Chappelle's irritating voice pause for a moment. 'No, Tony, I won't be able to make it "right after lunch." I'll come after 2:30.'

Tony rubbed his face irritated. 'Mr. Chappelle I've got something scheduled for 3:00. I'm not going to be able to make it.'

'Send someone else!' Chappelle said firmly. 'We're going to decide how to renovate CTU. I realize working in an empty concrete environment doesn't bother you, Almeida, but it's time to put the pieces together again. I'll meet you in the conference room.'

'Yes sir,' Tony sighed. He frowned in annoyance. It was all very well to be told to send someone else, but his task was not exactly work related. Michelle was still busy on her computer, sitting in exactly the same position. He picked up the phone, dialing her. 'Michelle, could you come upstairs for a moment?'

He watched her climbing the steps, admiring her beauty. 'Hi Tony,' she said shyly, answering his grin with her own. Tony drew the blinds and pulled her into his arms, kissing her firmly on the lips, feeling her tongue pushing deep into his mouth. He held her close, longing to remain with her in his arms all day. 'Michelle, can I ask you a favor? It would mean leaving work around 2:30, for an hour or so.'

'Sure,' she replied. 'Where do I go?'

'Ah, its personal business.' He rubbed his face, turning to his desk to withdraw a large photograph of a golden haired child. 'That's my niece, Sandy. She's at school right now, and she's supposed to go to home round 3:00. My sister's at the doctor then, she'll get back as soon as she can. My mom would've picked her up, but her car's not working, and Chappelle insists on coming to talk about the plans right then, so…'

'I'll pick her up,' Michelle told him, taking the photo. 'She's really sweet. Look at her hair. She doesn't look anything like you.'

'She looks like her father,' Tony replied, hoping Michelle hadn't noticed his frown. 'If you could just take her to a park for an hour, you can drop her home afterwards.'

'Tony, I need to know which school and where she lives,' Michelle told him mischievously. 'You forgot the details, again!'

He drew her towards him, kissing her deeply, interrupted by a knock on his door. They drew apart rapidly, Michelle leaving his office.

* * *

Tony paced back and forth, his restlessness a tangible thing. The longer he thought about Michelle, the more he felt like shaking the bars, forcing them open with his bare hands. A real shame Saunders was dead, he reflected. He would have taken him apart, limb from limb, for frightening his wife, having his hired goons hold a knife to her throat! His face burned with rage at the memory.

And what if it happened again sometime? What if Michelle was sent out on a dangerous assignment, and he wasn't around to stop her? What if she got hurt somewhere? He wouldn't even _know_ about it, stuck behind a high wall, surrounded by bars, locked away from the world in a steel cage!

He slammed his fist into the wall, forgetting it was swollen, feeling a wave of pain slam into it, spreading up his arm. The pain forced him to stop and breathe deeply to avoid a scream. They really, really had to let him out!


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine

The days slipped past, filled with work and visits from various official at Division – filled with glances stolen at Michelle. Occasionally she caught him looking at her, giving him the briefest grin before blushing and turning back to her monitor. He felt his own face blushing. 'Shame on you, Almeida. You're supposed to be at work. Focus!' But he couldn't. His heart was too full to enable him to give his work total concentration. Fortunately the few weeks following the bombing were unusually quiet ones.

'Your coffee,' Tony told her, handing Michelle a cup and sipping his own. She grinned at him, and he grinned back, enjoying their stolen five minutes together. 'Wait, I got something to go with this.' He got up, fishing deep behind a row of plates, emerging with a packet of cookies. 'We haven't tried these yet.'

'What are you doing this weekend?' she asked. 'Maybe we could get together .The summer's nearly over, we should go swimming.'

Tony chewed his lip, frowning. 'We must. I'll have to juggle some things around. Tomorrow morning I got to go to Marco's house and lay a new lawn. His wife hates the one they've got.'

'Why won't she do it herself, or get somebody?' Michelle asked, disappointed.

'She _has_ somebody, me! And my father, and hopefully my younger brother too, to entertain us while we dig.'

'What about the next day?' Michelle inquired.

'Honey, the game's on!' He saw her confused look. 'The Cubs are playing. They've got a real chance this time.' His voice trailed off as he saw her hurt expression. 'Ow, Michelle, come on, don't look at me like that.'

Michelle gave him another disappointed look. 'It's not fair. I've been hoping we could go swimming together all week. And just because of a ball game…'

Tony's heart ached at the obvious disappointment in her face. He chewed his lip silently.

'Wait a minute!' Michelle stood up, her eyes shining. 'You got a video!' Tony began to shake his head, but she ignored him. 'You'll tape it, and watch it later in the evening, when we get back.'

'Honey, it doesn't work that way,' Tony protested half heartedly. 'These things got to be watched live. It wouldn't be the same…'

'So it'll be different then,' Michelle told him, leaning over to kiss him. 'We'll have a wonderful time. You promised to show me your hidden beach, remember. We'll go see it.'

Tony rinsed his mug, carrying it carefully back with him. 'What can I say? You'll get along perfectly with my mom!' He squeezed her hand, drawing her back for a kiss. 'For you, I'll miss the game. But _only_ for you. Now I've got a meeting at Division I better not be late for, or Hammond will fire me. The topic's real thrilling – increased work performance!'

Hammond proved just as belligerent as ever, nodding his head at a seat in his office. Tony settled down, telling himself he'd get through the hour, just as he had managed to get through the previous meeting with the man. 'Focus, Almeida.' He laid his briefcase on the floor and glanced politely across the desk.

'Almeida, you people at CTU should have had enough time to begin working at full capacity by now,' he began. 'Your computers have all been replaced, your systems are up and running. You've had your personnel replaced. Yet you're still running at 80 capacity. Why?'

Tony's face flushed, he felt his fists clench under the desk. "You've had your personnel replaced!" Replaced, indeed! He had been to over twenty funerals in the past fortnight, saying a few words about each victim, trying to leave a message that the grieving family could take comfort from. That their loved one had made a difference had not died in vain. He had spoken to husbands and wives, old parents and young children. Paula's mother had wept in his arms. Alarmed, he felt tears prick the back of his eyes. 'Focus, Almeida!' Without Michelle he doubted whether he would have been able to handle it. She had visited several families with him, soothed several relatives, and attended all the funerals by his side.

'Mr. Hammond, we filled the positions with _new_ personnel. They'll take a little time to settle into their duties. We're doing better than last week. If you check our stats next week, you'll notice another improvement. The remaining personnel all lost friends, a lot of them are grieving. They need time too.'

Hammond looked up sternly, unused to being answered back. His eyes bore into Tony's. Tony pursed his lips and gazed steadily back, unflinching. Hammond gave a snort. 'Almeida, you always seem to come up with some heart warming excuse for poor performance! You've got till next week to reach full capacity. I shall come down myself on Thursday to examine the situation. If you want to keep your position as Director of CTU, start acting like one! Get your people moving. Now I see you're unable to do that alone, so let's examine each department individually, and I want your suggestions on how they can improve enough to be noticed by tomorrow!'

Tony returned to CTU two hours later, face burning, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles ached, marching through the floor without speaking to anyone. He opened a large bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glassful, drawing his blinds. He pounded his desk in frustration, watching the glass jump. "Personnel replaced…Unable to do that yourself…" He frowned, banging his fist down on the desk harder. Every item shook, and he swore aloud as he attempted to shake the pain from his hand. His door opened. 'NOT NOW' he yelled, pouring more whiskey to replace the half sloshed over the desk.

The person remained, forcing him to look up and acknowledge their presence. 'Ah Michelle,' he muttered. 'It's not a good time now. Give me half an hour, ok?' He swallowed his drink and buried his head in his hands, close to tears again. He felt two hands on his shoulders, massaging him silently.

'Thanks honey. I'm ok now,' he said, looking up ten minutes later. 'I'm sorry I yelled at you.'

'I thought you'd take the desk apart,' Michelle told him, tilting his head up for a kiss. 'I've never seen you real mad before. You looked like you could kill someone.'

'I felt like it,' he said, startled to realize he had spoken truthfully again. Why was he unable to conceal anything from her? She just had to look at him and his mouth would open, and out would come everything behind the barrier in his heart that he only ever allowed his grandfather to glimpse into.

That night he returned to a lonely apartment, wishing Michelle would visit him, and knowing she was busy with her brother. He ate a little left over from yesterday's meal, noting how quiet the place was. Eventually he gave up trying to settle and drove to his parents' house, feeling guilty for having visited them only once a week since the bombing.

They welcomed him as they always did, pulling him into the living room, his mother hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, and then picked Sandy up from the floor, holding her with one arm. 'Hi, princess. You staying to dinner too?'

'Yep, mommy's coming soon.' He nodded, glad he had come. It would be good to see Jane at home, rather than in a hospital.

'What happened to your hand, Uncle Tony?' the child asked, ever perceptive. Both his parents glanced at his right hand.

'Ah, it banged into something,' Tony told her, gently.

His mother took the child to the kitchen while he sat down, leaning back against the couch, closing his eyes. 'Tough day?' He nodded, accepting a beer from his father. 'You didn't quarrel with Michelle?' his father questioned, concerned.

Tony shook his head firmly. 'No way. She's great. No, I quarreled with one of my bosses today. Bastard seems to think human beings are like androids, just plug them in and they go!'

'That's a harsh description of your boss,' his father chided him mildly.

Tony looked up from his beer thoughtfully, before giving his head a small shake. 'No it isn't,' he said. He finished his beer in silence.

'Tony, bosses can be difficult sometimes. You got an incredible position, see that you keep it!'

He laid the glass on the table. 'I will. He had the last word, don't you worry. Hell, he had the last hundred words. He's gonna come check us out next week, see why the dead aren't at work, slacking off with such a poor excuse – check why the new guys don't act like they've been there a dozen years, and hassle me!'

His father shook his head. 'Tony,' he said mildly. 'Enough! When are you going to bring Michelle to meet us? Your mother would love to see her. We've had to resort to questioning Sandy about her. She's real impressed with her, by the way.'

'She sure is,' Tony's mother agreed, bringing plates into the room. 'Yesterday I got a call from her teacher to pick her up early; she'd poured brown paint all over her hair in art class, wanting to look more like Michelle.'

Tony burst out laughing, picking his niece up. 'So you want to look like Michelle, princess?' She nodded firmly.

'And when are we going to meet her, Tony?' his mother asked. They all looked at him curiously.

'Well, I could bring her in for a few minutes on the weekend. If she's not scared of meeting you all, that is. Either after we lay the lawn, or the next day, after the beach.'

'The beach?' questioned his father, amazed. 'Aren't the Cubs playing then?'

'They are. I'll tape it. Michelle wanted to go to the beach for the day,' he said, noticing the utter amazement of his parents.

'I think we better meet her soon,' his mother finally said. His father nodded speechlessly.

The door opened again. Tony got up to hug Jane tightly. 'Hi Janey. You look good.' She nodded, sitting close to him on the couch.

'Thanks for being there, helping with Sandy.' She smiled at him shyly. 'Michelle was lovely. We had tea together, once I got back. We talked about you. She really likes you, you know.'

He blushed. 'Yeah, I know. What did you girls talk about?'

His sister grinned at him, looking better than she had in two years. 'It's a secret! She made me promise not to tell. We laughed a lot.' He winced, wandering when he would be teased about something from his childhood. 'You should ask her to marry you, Tony! She's really nice.'

'Well, let's see if she still likes me in the next few months,' he replied, squirming. The thought of asking her to marry him had crossed his mind several times a day, but he really had to be sure she would love him all his life. Marco didn't seem especially happy with his marriage, and neither did Jane. Then again, Rita was happy with her professor, and Anna and John adored each other. That last thought reminded him to buy the latest copy of the tennis magazine, so he would have something to discuss when he saw them on Monday for dinner.

He stayed at his parents' house that night, settling in his old bed, feeling strange to be alone in the room. He felt relaxed enough to curl up, pull the blanket over his head and close his eyes. He was almost asleep when he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him persistently. 'Tony, are you up?'

'Sure' he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 'What's up, Janey?'

'I can't sleep. use someone to talk to.' She looked at him guiltily. Tony climbed out of bed and threw on his clothes, following her outside to the verandah.

'So how come you stayed the night too? You didn't drink that much?' he questioned, wrapping her securely in his blanket.

The moon shone onto her, showing how frail she still was. She leaned her head against the sofa swing. Unease rose inside him. The doctor had assured them she was in remission again. Surely she was ok? 'Janey, whatever it is, tell me. I'll sort it out for you,' he promised.

'I know.' She stared round the garden while he waited, fully awake now. 'I've left Robert!' He felt a smile creep across his face which he fought back instantly. 'I don't know how to tell mom. They're still a bit old-fashioned!'

'Tell her you finally came to your senses,' he advised. 'Honey, they won't mind. We all saw it wasn't working.'

'Well, I've been sick almost two years now. It's not the kind of wife he needs. He needs someone to accompany him to dinner parties, host them.' They sat in silence for a while, Tony taking her hand. 'Would you come with me after I drop Sandy at school, to help me get our stuff from the house?' He nodded. 'I don't have a key anymore, but I figured you could open the door. I know the security code.'

'Wait a minute,' Tony said, getting up to pace the verandah. 'He can't just lock you out, you know! Not after over ten years of marriage!'

'It's his house, not mine. I don't care anymore. As long as he leaves Sandy with me…' Her voice trailed off, and she wiped her eyes.

Tony spun around, pausing directly in front of her. 'What do you mean, "leave Sandy with you?" She's yours.'

'He said if I tried to challenge him for the house he'd keep her,' she said softly. 'If I die, he'll dump her in a boarding school, and none of you will ever get to see her again. She'll be so miserable.' Jane wept openly.

'Janey, for a start, you're getting better now. Second, Sandy stays with you, and finally, you get to keep the house. Hell, that bastard has dozens of properties. I'll go speak to him myself alone tomorrow.' His fists clenched again. First Hammond, now his brother-in –law! He wouldn't be amazed to find himself facing an assault charge the next day!

Jane shook her head. 'You'd kill him. He told me what you done to him last time.'

Tony sat back on the sofa, taking her hand in his. 'Listen carefully, Janey. I'll go talk to him, I'll get you that house, and I promise I won't touch him. Trust me. You just stay here with mom.'

He slipped out early the next morning, before they had breakfast, driving to Robert's house. 'Focus, Almeida. You're going to discuss this reasonably. You're_ not_ going to beat the crap out of him! You're there to get Janey a home, that's all!'

He rang the bell, waited a moment, then rang again. After a minute he banged on the door. Robert's car sat in the garage, he was home, and he was going to listen to what he had to say, whether he liked it or not. 'Robert, come out, you sonofabitch. I'll be a lot less nice if I have to come in to talk to you,' he yelled.

The door opened, Robert gazed at him in disdain. 'What do you want, Tony? You don't belong in this neighborhood.'

Tony forced himself to ignore the remark. 'Look, I came to say one thing only, then I'll go and we never need see each other again. Leave Jane in peace here. You're worth $15 million. You've got other properties. She never cheated on you, which is more than anyone could say about you. Let her raise Sandy in peace here.'

'You finished?' Robert inquired. 'Listen, she'll leave with what she came with – nothing. I'm going to be stuck paying maintenance, but that's all! Now get out, before I call the cops.'

Tony reached inside, grabbing him by the shirt. '_You_ listen, you bastard. You push Janey out of here; I'll give your name to the Internal Revenue department. You'll have tax inspectors crawling all over your companies by Monday morning. Your assets will be frozen while they investigate you, and hell, you better hope everyone of your deals was legitimate, coz if just one wasn't, we'll be bringing Sandy to visit you in jail!'

'Get the hell off my property,' Robert hissed.

'With pleasure,' Tony said and drove home, attempting to calm down. He had a long day ahead of him, he needed to relax.

His cell rang that day as he was unrolling a new patch of lawn. 'Hi, honey,' he told Michelle, seeing her number. 'I miss you sooo much.'

'Same here. Am I distracting you from your landscaping?' He heard her chuckle.

'You are, thank goodness. It's quite hard work. We just finished digging out the old lawn, and my brother's been holding a lecture suitable only for people with a doctorate in astronomy!' He lowered his voice, glancing around to make sure he was alone. 'And Marco's wife has been grumbling all day! No wander he's so happy in the navy!'

They giggled together. 'Listen Michelle, my parents would love to meet you,' Tony said suddenly. 'They'll be alone in the house tonight.' He bit his lip, hoping she'd agree.

'Ok, if you'll come pick me up,' she said hesitantly.

'I will. Don't worry, they'll love you.'

* * *

Tony leaned against the wall next to the basin, gazing at his empty bed. He had been pacing up and down, worrying about Michelle for at least the past half hour, praying she was asleep and spared the depression he was going through. She probably was, he comforted himself. Knowing her, she would have spent all last night up, in as much misery as he had been in, so she would be ready to drop by now. He wished he could too. Logically, he should be deep asleep now, what with pacing most of the previous night, the hellish twenty four hours he had lived through just before that and his fever. The only reason he could have for still remaining awake was his deep unease at being caged.

The cell seemed to shrink before his tired eyes. Panic rose inside him, engulfing him before his brain recognized it and attempted to push it away. He felt his stomach muscles tense, his breathing slow, his throat tighten till no air could find its way into his lungs. Sweat broke out all over him. With shaking hands he turned the tap on, placing his head under it, running icy water over it till he was able to control himself again. He sank onto the floor near the basin, taking deep breaths. 'Focus, Almeida. It's just a jail cell. There's nothing dangerous in here.' His body remained tense, forcing him to concentrate on keeping his breathing slow and deep. 'Except in case of a fire, or explosion, or anything else, I'd be stuck. They'd leave me to die in here.' The trembling returned. 'Focus, Almeida! Don't think about the fire – its over. You caught the guy.' He forced himself to think of Michelle instead, knowing she could relax him.


	40. Chapter Forty

Once again his breath caught in his throat as she opened her door, smiling at him. She wore a blue top with thin straps and a white skirt with blue flowers, simple white sandals and a white band in her hair. Every curl was tucked up neatly. Tony remembered he still stood there admiring her wordlessly, and leaned forward to give her a kiss. 'Hi, honey, you look gorgeous. You look lovelier every time I see you.'

Michelle put her arms tightly about him, pulling him in closer. 'Do you really think so? Is this ok for meeting your parents?'

'Sweetheart, it's more than ok. You a bit nervous?' he asked her gently.

'A little,' Michelle admitted softly.

Tony squeezed her hand. 'So are they,' he told her, grinning. 'Mom's been driving me insane the past hour, tidying up the verandah, and she and my father are tidying inside. That's after digging all day!'

Michelle threw him a nervous smile and climbed into his car. He chatted to her all the way, explaining about Marco's wife, enjoying her laugh. He drove up the driveway and turned to her, giving her a quick kiss. 'Don't worry, honey, they're really very nice people.'

He opened the door with his key, pulling Michelle into the hall. The house was lit but appeared silent. 'I guess they're laying the table in the verandah,' he said. 'Come in.'

'What a lovely vase,' Michelle exclaimed, staring at a large clay vase in the hall opposite the door. 'It's huge. It must be worth a fortune.'

'It's a little damaged, but yeah, it's the only expensive thing my parents have. It was a wedding present from someone. We were warned never to touch this on pain of death!'

Michelle laughed. 'It looks quite sturdy. Do you ever wander what could've been put into it?'

Tony laughed aloud. 'I wouldn't know, but I know what's in it now. A key.'

'A priceless antique key! But how do you know,' she asked, peering into the narrow dark interior.

'Well, it's not exactly a priceless antique key,' Tony told her grinning. 'It's a cheap American one. I know it's there, coz I dropped it inside around twenty years ago, and it's still there.' He moved over to peer into the vase with her. 'You see, it's so deep and narrow I couldn't put my hand inside to pull it out.'

'So why did you put the key inside?' Michelle asked, intrigued.

Tony glanced round quickly, noting the house was still silent. 'Well my father made himself a den in the cellar, mainly coz it was the only place where he could read in peace. None of us kids were allowed there under _any_ circumstance. Once Marco and I were fighting over one of my toys, and he got real cross and told me if I couldn't share than I wouldn't have my robot either, and he took it down with him. I really wanted it back, so a couple of days later I figured I'd go get it. Papa never would have remembered anyway. I took the key, and I was just about to head down to the cellar when mom got back from shopping. If she saw me holding the key it would've meant a certain spanking, so I dropped it in there, figuring she wouldn't see it. She didn't, of course, but neither did I. In the end my father had to change the lock. They still don't know where the key got to,' he whispered.

'I won't tell,' she whispered back, hearing footsteps. She squeezed his hand tighter.

'Mom, Papa, this is Michelle,' he said watching them smile and invite her inside. They went inside the living room. He settled close to her on the couch, hoping she wasn't too nervous.

They told her how glad they were to meet her, how pleased they were their son finally had someone. Tony listened to the conversation, glad to see Michelle relaxing. He could only imagine how nervous he would be when it was his turn to meet her family.

Michelle glanced round the living room, examining the furniture, the piano, the over flowing toy-box, and the pictures on the walls. Tony followed her gaze, hoping she liked the place. Of course it would never be a show house, having seen such a large family raised there, but it was pleasant.

'Oh my God, it's a bullet hole!' Michelle exclaimed, staring at the wall near the passage door. 'Who fired a gun in here?'

Tony's parents glanced at each other and over to him, while he buried his head in his hands. The hole had been there for so long they no longer noticed it. He had forgotten its existence.

Michelle looked from one to the other, resting her gaze on Tony. 'Was it you?'

'It was my fault,' Tony's father said softly. 'It was my gun – I should have locked it away more securely.'

Tony shook his head. 'No, it was my fault, Papa. I knew I wasn't supposed to touch it, but I still did.'

'Why don't you tell Michelle?' his mother suggested. 'She's curious now.'

Tony shook his head, feeling his face burn. 'No, she doesn't want to know. Do you, Michelle?'

'Yes I do!' she told him. He could tell from the way she relaxed against him that she was no longer nervous. Eager eyes met his, reminding him of the time he cleaned her kitchen. He suspected that she would know all about him quite soon. He gave a mock sigh.

'Well, my cousins were here for the Easter holidays, and they brought their toy guns with them. They were real cool; they fired little balls that drove mom nuts, as the baby was always putting them in his mouth. We got up real early on Saturday, and we played gangsters, and they wouldn't let me borrow their guns for a minute. I wanted one so badly. Then I remembered Papa had a real gun upstairs, on the top shelf of his closet. I tiptoed into my parents' room and they woke up and told me off, 'Tony, its 6:20, go and play somewhere else! We don't want to get up that early on a Saturday!'

'Of course not!' Michelle exclaimed. 'I would've chased you out.'

'They were too tired to move! I told them I just wanted something from the closet. Mom kept small toys like puzzles there, that shouldn't be scattered round the house. I climbed the step ladder and found the shot gun, and crept outside. My cousins were real impressed when I got back, and wanted to swap, but I wouldn't! We played right here, hiding behind the couch and armchairs and crawling under the table. They kept firing at me, and I released the safety and pulled the trigger, aiming it at them.' He shook his head. 'Honey I was ten years old, I was real stupid. Fortunately the recoil made my aim go wide. There was this massive boom, and then a bullet sat in the wall. My sisters and cousins rushed down the stairs, and my parents decided that 6:20 was a fine time to get up on a Saturday after all!' He couldn't help grinning at them, and they grinned back, shaking their heads at him. 'They took the gun upstairs, and we all heard mom yelling at Papa. Then she came downstairs and started breakfast, and Papa called me, and yelled at me! He _never_ shouted at anyone before or since! And then….Anyway, I never touched another gun until they gave me a rifle in the army.'

Michelle clutched his arm, looking at him horrified. 'You could've killed yourself.'

Tony nodded. 'Yeah. But I was lucky. So was everyone else at home!'

'Let's go and eat now,' Tony's mother said, leading the way to the verandah. Tony sat next to Michelle, watching her look round the garden.

'It's nice out here. Do you often get together and have parties?'

'Not as often as we should,' Tony's mother said sadly. 'I've got a daughter in San Francisco, she comes a few times a year with her children, and then my two sons in the navy come only when they're on leave. We don't often see Marco's children, usually only when he's home. We see the five at home all the time, though, and one granddaughter.'

Tony watched Michelle's face carefully. He could tell she was struggling with the idea of such a family. 'I guess you always miss the ones that aren't around?' she asked.

Tony's mother nodded. 'Always. No matter how many are here, you always know who's missing.'

He took her plate. 'What can I get you, Michelle?' He suspected she might be shy helping herself.

'A bit of everything,' she said, earning her a smile from his mother. Yes mom, Tony thought, stacking his own plate. Michelle will eat everything I cook. He grinned to himself. 'How do you organize eight children?' Michelle asked, watching his parents. 'How can you help with so much homework? How do you even know which child is where?'

'You have to be totally organized, dear. We had a calendar on the wall, with everyone's timetable written on it, who had music lessons, who was at baseball, or basketball, or swimming, or ballet. As for homework, I let them play an hour after school and then I settled them round the dining room table and checked their exercise books.'

'You forgot to mention running back to school to pick up whoever had detention,' Tony reminded her, cheerfully.

Michelle shook her head. 'Sounds tough.'

'It can be, at times. Don't forget you start slowly, first only one child is at school. By the time Tony finished his final year we had six others at school, and one at home. Once they're in high school they do their own homework, you only help if they can't do something.'

'And you check to make sure they've done it,' Tony's father agreed. 'I remember the French teacher kept calling. I felt so guilty, I kept promising I'd check Tony's homework, but by the time I got home I was tired, and then I helped bath some little ones, and lay the table, and I usually forgot.'

'I don't know how you guys done it,' Michelle said. 'It's more stressful than a full time job!'

'You do it if you love kids,' Tony's father said softly. 'You keep telling yourself once they grow up you'll have a great time, go out wherever you want, but you don't. You spend your time visiting them, helping out. It gives your life real meaning.'

They stayed another half hour, drinking coffee and having cakes, Michelle talking about her brother Danny. Tony refrained from commenting. He had failed to be impressed with Danny when he met him, thinking of him as a nutcase. Not that he would _ever_ tell Michelle that. Exasperated as she was with him, she still loved her brother; he picked that up from the way she spoke about him. At least she was loyal – he valued that. At least she had someone to discuss when questioned about her family. She described Danny's kids, letting them know how strongly she felt about them. It was a topic his parents were really interested in. All in all the evening was a success, and Michelle was told to come back often.

'Tony, your parents are _great_!' she exclaimed as they drove back. 'You really have a nice home. You're so lucky.'

'Yeah' he agreed, glad she felt the same way he did. 'The house is not too big, it's not in the best part of town, and the furniture is slightly worn, but its home. I like to go there.' He fell silent. He continued the conversation inside, in silence, not yet able to open up so completely. 'I go there whenever I have no one to talk to at the apartment and the silence gets too much for me. I go there whenever I want to be fussed over. I go there when I don't feel too well. I go there when I just want to be part of a family.'

'I would've loved to have parents like that.' Tony glanced at her, seeing a pensive expression on her face.

'You can share mine,' he thought, forcing himself to keep silent. 'Don't scare her off, Almeida! Be patient.'

'They really care about you, and all their other children.' Michelle fell silent, watching the traffic flowing past. 'But eight children are just too many.' She glanced at him uncertainly.

Tony forced his grin off his face. 'Sure it is,' he agreed seriously. He heard her sigh of relief. 'I always thought six would be fine!' He burst out laughing at her expression. 'Just kidding, honey!'

Michelle watched him out of the corners of her eyes as he drove along the freeway. 'Are you really sure of that, Tony?'

He was unable to contain his laughter. 'Yeah. Honey, I'd love to have some kids one day, but a couple would be fine.'

He drove to her apartment, accepting her invitation to go inside for a night cap. Michelle fetched the drinks while Tony sat on a barstool, elbows on the counter, head resting in his hands. 'Tony, you look exhausted.' Michelle settled next to him. 'You worked real hard all day. Will you be able to show me your hidden beach tomorrow?'

He grinned at her, accepting his drink. 'Sure I will. You should get some sleep though, it's quite a climb. Oops, I must be losing it! I could've pleaded exhaustion and got to stay home and watch the game.'

Michelle shook her head at him, pulling his face towards hers. She kissed him deeply, pushing her tongue into his mouth. He responded, weariness forgotten. 'No way, Tony! There's _nothing_ wrong with you.'

Tony forced himself to get up and say goodnight, knowing if he stayed any longer he would find it impossible to leave. 'Patience, Almeida. Don't scare her away.' He noted her slight look of disappointment as he left. 'Give her time to make sure she really loves you, Almeida, as much as you love her. Then you can stay over night!'

Then he would stay over night, he knew. He said a silent prayer as he drove home, asking for Michelle to love him unreservedly. Of course he didn't deserve anyone so beautiful and loyal, but he had begun to feel that life without her would be meaningless. 'Dammit, Almeida, you're lost again. You're gonna hurt if she goes. You just don't learn, do you? She's completely stolen your heart. Now all you can do is hope.'

* * *

He had watched her carefully everyday, seeing her delight at his appearance, her smile that was reserved for him alone, the kisses she gave him whenever she climbed the stairs to his office. Slowly it became certain even to him that Michelle adored him. He allowed himself to accept that she really did like him, she would stay with him. Life without her was unthinkable.

Gentle waves washed the shore of the tiny place he called his 'hidden beach.' He watched them wash over the sand. He stared beyond the gap in the rocks to the wild ocean beyond. It was too dark to see the horizon meet the water. He pictured eternity with Michelle by his side, growing old together surrounded by a family of their own.

Tomorrow he would buy her a ring.

His heart ached. He remembered handing it to her, not where he'd planned to, but he had still managed to slide it over her finger. Tears pricked his eyes again. In a minute he would cry again, and she would see his distress tomorrow. She would hurt unbearably, blaming herself for his situation. He fought the tears away. Tomorrow Michelle would see him calm, totally focused on the hearing. It would allay her concerns about his immediate well-being, at any rate. She would then only have to worry about the outcome of the trial, if she believed he was ok.

Tony sighed and got up, pacing the cell yet again. He knew Michelle so well by now he could guess at several of her actions. She would be in turmoil, blaming him and pitying him, blaming herself, blaming Saunders. He would do whatever he could to ease part of her distress.

His parents also had to be left with the impression that he was ok, or they would make themselves sick with worry before the trial. Experience taught him the trial would probably be a couple of months away, quite long enough for them to make themselves really ill. At least they would get to visit him once he had been sentenced. He closed his eyes, picturing them entering a federal penitentiary, giving their name to a guard behind a counter, being ordered to wait. They would sit on plastic chairs in a crowded waiting room, stealing glances at the other waiting relatives, being ordered to wait yet longer by impersonal guards. Finally they would be led to a window and settled on chairs, holding a phone, and they would get to see him being led in, handcuffs on his wrists. At least Michelle had already seen him like that – they hadn't. They would watch his legs being shackled to the table, watch the guard leaving, and finally see him picking up the phone behind the solid glass. Nothing in the world could prepare them for that sight.

Maybe he shouldn't look forward to their visit so badly. It wouldn't cheer them up. Yet he couldn't help longing to see them. 'You're real selfish, Tony Almeida! It would have been better for them had you been killed during Saunders capture. Sure they would have grieved, but they would've been comforted by crowds of friends, and eventually they would have moved on. Now they'll be shunned, and they won't be able to move on, worrying about you everyday, year in, year out, filling their calendar with visiting dates.' He groaned aloud.


	41. Chapter Forty One

'So, Tony, how's the security of the nation?' Anna asked, handing him a plate of soup. 'Any UFO sightings lately? Aliens wandering around trying to pass as human? Mysterious people who never age?'

Tony rolled his eyes at her. 'All of the above,' he answered, keeping his face straight. 'Who told you about it? I should check the leak of confidential Intel!'

They laughed together. 'As long as you keep those aliens away from disrupting the US Open,' John told him. 'It's starting in two weeks.'

'I'll have to capture them real soon then,' Tony said. 'What about you guys, are there any new promising juniors?' He listened to Anna and John interrupt each other in their descriptions of several young players he was unfamiliar with.

'Seriously, Tony, I got a request,' John said. 'You do have access to all kinds of stuff. Could you delete a few photos from a speed camera? Damn thing took my picture!'

Tony shook his head regretfully. 'I'd be fired, John. Hell, I can't even delete my own! I got a photo yesterday too.' He sighed heavily.

'Yeah, but you get to issue yourself with an extraordinary license,' Anna protested.

'Anna, I got to get around somehow,' Tony told her, helping himself to more food.

'So does John,' his sister told him. 'He'll lose his license over this one.'

'It's ok, I'll drive without one for a few months,' John said, getting more food. 'Oops, I forgot, Tony's here. You didn't hear that.'

'There's lots of stuff I don't hear,' Tony told him, amused. 'Anyway, I've got a day off tomorrow. I'm going shopping.'

They stared at him surprised. 'That's not like you,' Anna said. 'Is Michelle going too?'

He shook his head. 'No, she's got to work. I needed to buy something alone.'

'You're getting her a ring!' Anna yelled, leaping up and giving him a tight hug. 'Tony, I'm so glad! We were wandering if you ever would. Papa said he'd give you till the end of the month, and then talk to you!'

Tony groaned aloud. 'When will you guys quit discussing my personal life?'

'Never,' said his sister. 'There's nothing else happening now. No babies coming. There's just you.'

'Why don't you come with us to watch the tennis?' John asked suddenly. 'You've never been to the US Open even once. It's hardly patriotic!'

Tony stared at him amazed. 'John, I've been to watch the Cubs loads of times. I'd go with you guys, but I haven't got any holidays.' He looked regretful for a moment. It would have been fun to watch a couple of matches, and he'd never been to New York.

John got up, and they left the dining room, wandering out to the garden. 'You're a little hopeless, Tony, for the director of CTU. You don't take a holiday for a trip, you think of a conference you got to attend there and go during work. Just make sure it's not too long. Spend a day or so listening to some drivel, then watch the last week of the tennis!'

He laughed heartily, but at home he switched on his computer, trying to find a reason for him to go to New York for a couple of days. He could find nothing pressing that required his attention there. No, he wouldn't be able to go this year either.

He switched off his computer when the bell rang, admitting Michelle. 'Hi, sweetheart. How was your evening with Danny?'

'Like I need a drink right away!' Michelle replied. She shook her head, her lips pursed together.

Tony mixed two drinks and handed her one. 'Come here! You look so gorgeous when you're mad!' He drew her towards him. 'Gimme a kiss, or are you sick of men in general tonight?'

He watched her face carefully, noting her exasperation seemed to be fading. 'Sick of men in general, tonight,' she agreed, but her tone was softer.

'Aw,' he said, hugging her tightly. 'So what can I do to change your poor opinion of my sex?' He tilted her chin upwards and kissed her deeply.

'Well, you can do that again,' Michelle told him, smiling. He laid his drink down and kissed her deeper, feeling her heart beat against his. He felt her body moving as she breathed in and out.

'Control yourself, Almeida,' Tony told himself sternly. 'Want to tell me what happened with Danny?' he asked.

'Not really. He still likes Carrie!' she explained in a rush, beginning to look furious again. Tony regretted he had asked. Now he would have to work hard to relax her again. 'He thinks he should go talk to her, apologize. How can he be that stupid?'

Tony shook his head, not daring to voice his opinion of her brother. 'Sometimes guys do real stupid things if they love someone,' he told her gently, hugging her again. 'You just don't see the real picture.' He chewed his lip, thinking of Nina. He had been _such_ a fool. He felt his face grow hot.

Michelle glanced curiously at him. 'Are you ok, Tony? Did you forget to send something over to Division?' she asked.

He shook his head quickly. 'No, everything's fine. Let's watch something.' He grabbed the TV guide and handed it to her. 'You pick.'

Michelle chose a thriller about a prison break. They watched a man being taken to a maximum security prison in silence, both remembering their time in the holding room. Tony asked whether she wanted to watch something else, but she shook her head. They watched him being led inside a whole roomful of cells. Michelle gave a little gasp and settled closer to him. Tony held her tight, sipping his drink in silence.

'That could've been us,' Michelle said softly, during a commercial break. 'Could you live like that, Tony? Stay in such a place for years?'

He shook his head soberly. He had been picturing himself sitting in a cell during the movie, gazing at the screen in horror. He doubted whether he'd last a week in such a place. There was _no way_ he could stand being locked up! 'No,' he replied. No, he needed air to breathe, fresh air.

'So you'd join this guy on his escape?' she questioned. 'I would!'

'Yeah, I guess so. But he's just a murderer. Look how they're hunting him. They'd have turned the country upside down for us! There'd be nowhere to go.'

'I know where you'd go,' she told him, running a hand through his hair. 'You'd hide out in a cave at your hidden beach! There's the fresh water pool there, and you could fish.'

Tony felt himself relaxing again. She always managed to pull him out of his somber moods. 'Hey, it wouldn't be real comfortable. And I _hate_ fish! And if I had to live on what I could catch I'd be real hungry. You know how much we caught with my father last time we went out. Nothing! It was worse than in a comedy. We just sat in my boat and had beer and talked.' We talked about you mainly, sweetheart, he thought silently.

'Well if you spent the night chatting, you shouldn't be surprised you scared the fish away,' Michelle laughed. 'I'd have to bring you some food, tins and packets of stuff.' She looked intrigued at the thought.

'I got a better idea,' Tony told her, pulling her even closer. 'We'll behave ourselves, and get to live here. I'd make you breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday.' He fell silent, realizing he had just given his deepest desire away. 'Almeida, is that the way to ask your best friend, the most beautiful woman in the whole world, to live with you? You're hopeless!'

Michelle gazed at him in amazement, a grin spreading across her face. 'Tony Almeida, are you asking what I think you are? You want me to move in with you?' She searched his eyes for his reaction.

A huge grin lit up his face. 'Yeah,' he answered, watching her smile. 'I'd love to be with you all the time. I hate it when you go home.' 'There, you've said it, Almeida. No candles, no flowers, not the most romantic place in world, and in the middle of a real depressing movie! You sure do pick your timing!'

'Tony, I'd LOVE to move in with you!' Michelle exclaimed, hugging him fiercely. 'I was thinking you'd never ask!'

He gazed at her speechless. 'Really?' he managed to get out.

'Sure. I've wanted to move in with you since our first date. And definitely since you cleaned the kitchen. You're a great guy.' She kissed him, stroking his hair, her face shining.

His face matched hers, as he grinned at her, unable to speak. She wanted to move in with him! He hadn't even bought her a ring yet, or mentioned it, yet she loved him enough to be with him. 'Would you like to stay tonight?' he whispered. He searched her face carefully, thrilled to see her certain agreement.

'Yeah, we waited long enough.'

Tony got up from the couch, switching off the TV, pulling her up gently. He led her into the bedroom, running his hands through her hair. He pulled her towards him, kissing her, fumbling with her top. Michelle laughed and helped him remove it. 'It's my turn now,' she said, unbuttoning his shirt. He felt his excitement rise. It took all his self control not to push her onto the bed.

'It's my turn now,' he told her, unfastening her bra. He pulled it off gently, gasping. 'Michelle, you're beautiful,' he groaned. He wasn't able to take his eyes off her. He kissed her breasts, feeling a fire inside him he'd never felt before.

Michelle took the bra from his hand and threw it on the bed with the growing pile of clothes. 'It's my turn now,' she said, unbuckling his belt. She pulled his trousers off and gave him a little push, indicating he should step out of them. He sat on the bed and she pulled his legs out, laying the jeans on top of everything else. He stood before her in his boxer shorts and socks, watching her reaction.

'Tony, you're gorgeous,' she exclaimed, her eyes shining. 'You're even more sexy than I imagined.'

He grinned at her, still a little shy. So she had been wandering what he looked like? 'Really?' he asked.

'Really,' she replied. 'Don't be so shy. You're a great guy. It's your turn now.'

His eyes lit up. He pulled her skirt down slowly with trembling fingers, supporting her while she lifted her legs out of them. Once again he stared at her spellbound, unable to speak. Michelle laughed and removed the skirt from him, tossing it on the bed. She slid her hands inside his boxers, pulling them off slowly. He stepped out of them, watching her face.

'Tony, you're really great! You're amazing.' She pulled him towards her, kissing him, her tongue pushing deep into his mouth. He returned her kiss passionately, feeling a fire raging through him. His hands slid inside her pants, pulling them off, lifting her legs gently.

'Sweetheart, you're the loveliest woman I've ever seen,' he whispered.

Michelle pointed towards the bathroom. 'Let's have a bath together. It would make it even more exciting!' She put the plug in the bath, running hot water.

Tony watched the bath fill, wandering how he would be able to contain himself. When it was half full Michelle stepped in, searching the shelf just above it. 'Where's your bubble bath?'

'Honey, guys don't have that kind of stuff,' he protested, before opening the cupboard and pulling out a bottle. 'You're real lucky little Sandy spends the night so often and uses this stuff. It's for kids.'

Michelle shook her head, taking the bottle and pouring half its contents into the water. 'I love it,' she confessed. 'Come in now, Tony, sit in the bubbles.' He stepped in, wincing at the heat, excited to be with her and ashamed at the thought of having a bubble bath. She pulled him down opposite her, and he stretched his legs out beside her, sinking up to his chest in bubbles. 'Put your head back and close your eyes. It's so relaxing.'

Tony rolled his eyes at her. 'Honey, I don't want to relax,' he confessed, watching her amusement. 'I want to pick you up and take you back to the bedroom.'

Michelle laughed at him. 'You're too impatient. We've got the whole night.' She flicked some bubbles at him. They flew through the air and landed on his face. He wiped them off, his eyes sparkling, and flicked some back at her.

'Now you're getting cheeky,' Michelle told him, laughing, picking up a whole armful of bubbles.

'Hey, I surrender,' he exclaimed, leaping out of the bath, jumping aside as it was flung after him. 'Are you ready yet?' He pulled her out gently, pulling the plug.

Michelle was warm and soft, and he felt better than with any of his previous girlfriends. He lay holding her close afterwards, marveling at their love making, amazed yet again that she had chosen him.

'Tony, you were incredible. I love you,' she told him, kissing him on the lips. He hugged her tighter, completely at ease with her. She was his girlfriend, and if he got really lucky one day, she would marry him and stay with him forever. He would love her all his life.

* * *

Tony forced himself to sit on the edge of his bed again. He had no idea what the time was, but he was certain it was way past midnight. He really needed to sleep a little or he would find it hard to concentrate in the morning. Not that he would be required to say anything, but he still wanted to hear the judge's decision. Could the man really look him in the face and deny him bail?

Bail. Tony ran the word over his tongue. He had been dreaming of it and despairing at the same time all day. Realistically, though, even if the judge proved to be in an exceptionally lenient mood and did grant him bail, where was he supposed to get the money from to cover it? He certainly had no job! The savings on his account amounted to a couple of thousand dollars only, as the rest went into the house. He had a little equity in the house, but he hated the thought of withdrawing it. The bank would be sure to question Michelle as to why she wanted its return. They would be highly unlikely to hand it over for his bail, knowing she would never be able to return it if he failed to show for his trial.

Tension forced him up again. He paced back and forth, examining himself honestly. Would he return for a trial? In the morning he would have answered "yes" without hesitation and meant it. Skipping bail was dishonest – he would never stoop so low. He just needed a little time to fix things in the house, and go to the beach! He wanted to spend hours alone with Michelle, trying to get her to forgive him, making sure she had something to remember before they would lock him away. He wanted to spend time with his parents, go to their house and tease his brothers and sisters. Then he would return for his trial. He rested his head against the bars, staring at the silent corridor. He'd spent the whole day locked into this small cell, denied any type of mental stimulation. He was bored sick. All he could do was sit and dream of the past. It hadn't helped at all. The happy memories made him long to leave and the bad ones – well he had succeeded in pushing them away for years and now they had all resurfaced. Could he really return to a trial, knowing he would almost certainly be convicted? Could he walk into the courtroom with Michelle a free man, and walk out in cuffs, sentenced to a minimum of twenty years? Could he face being caged for twenty years? 'Be honest, Almeida! No, no, no, no, no.' Well, he suspected the judge would reach the same conclusion. He groaned aloud. His opinion of himself was sinking by the minute.

He moved away from the bars, staring round the cell in despair. Ok, so he was an untrustworthy person. He would flee the moment they released him. He would find some pleasant third world banana republic with a government that controlled only its own capital, and settle in some smaller coastal town. He would pay a few hundred dollars for a new identity and even find a job. He was, after all, a qualified engineer. He would live happily ever after! No more hassles, no more being woken in the middle of the night and dragged into work, no eminent crisis, no countdowns. He would live in peace, go home after work and relax! Well no, he wouldn't! He would never be able to be happy without Michelle to go home to. And Michelle might think less of his idyllic banana republic. If she joined him she would be denied the right to return to the States, and she would grow tired of walking round the beach and having coffees every evening. He swallowed his unease down. Michelle wouldn't join him! He would go home to an empty house, or wander the beach alone. It would be like before he met her, only ten times worse, as he would miss her every minute.

He was missing her now. He would miss her every minute he was forced to spend apart from her locked away in prison. 'But you'll get to see her sometimes when she visits you. You'll see her smile, talk to her.' He swallowed another lump down, pressing his tears back. He had no idea how many visits a prisoner was granted, or the length of time the visit would last. He only knew he wouldn't be able to touch her. Would he return to his trial, knowing he would be sentenced to prison for the rest of his life, just so he would be able to see her a couple of times a year? Tony rubbed his face vigorously and buried his head in his hands. Yes, he might.


	42. Chapter Forty Two

'Mom, where are you?' Tony called, hurrying into the garden. He saw her hanging out a basket of washing and went to join her. 'Look what I got Michelle.' He pulled a small box from his shirt pocket and opened it. His mother took the ring carefully, passing it to Jane, Rita, Anna, Maria and Sandy. All of them examined the ring in turn, gasping. Sandy tried it on her middle finger, before he took it away and placed it back in the box.

'What do you think?' he asked.

'Tony, it's lovely,' Anna assured him. 'She'll love it,' Jane told him, hugging him. 'It's worth a fortune,' Rita said. 'Does someone want to buy _me_ something like that too,' Maria shouted.

'No,' said their mother. 'Tony, it's perfect. She'll really love it.'

'It took me all morning to find this,' Tony told them. His eyes shone as he replaced the box in his shirt. 'I'll give it to her tonight.'

'Where are going to give it to her?' inquired Anna, the most romantically inclined of all his sisters.

He shrugged. 'At home.' He watched them all shake their heads. Even Rita looked shocked. 'Not at home,' he corrected himself.

'Definitely not at home!' Anna told him. 'Take her out somewhere really special. Find a restaurant with candles. Candles only, Tony, no electric lighting at all!'

He nodded, frowning. 'Can you suggest a place?'

Anna took him by the elbow. 'Sure I can. Ready to commit a list to memory?'

The phone rang. Rita got up and passed him her baby. 'Hold Mikey for a minute, Tony. I'll get that. I'm still catching up with old friends.' She went inside and Tony held the squirming baby. She returned a minute later. 'Tony, it's for you. Some woman.' They all gazed at him and he shrugged.

A few minutes later he returned, sober. 'Mom, I can't stay to lunch. I got a call from the wife of one of my men in the army. He's missing, most likely in some kind of trouble. I'll go take a look, see what I can sort out.'

'Is it really your business, Tony?' his mother asked.

He shook his head. 'No. But I did tell them if ever they needed anything, I'd help out. And his wife called. I can't refuse to help her. And knowing Sanchez, I certainly couldn't call the police. I'll be back by the time Michelle finishes.'

'Tony, where exactly do they live?' questioned his mother, uneasily. She looked as though she'd love to forbid him to go.

'About two hours outside LA in a trailer park,' he said. 'I'll have to hurry.' He stopped with a groan. 'Oh, I forgot. My car's been acting up all day. Could I take yours, mom?'

She nodded reluctantly and he grabbed his map and drove off. Once he was out on the main road he pulled the box from his shirt pocket, examining the ring in detail. The light caught its surface, reflecting in a dozen directions. He could hardly wait to give it to Michelle. He better hurry and find Sanchez, sort out whatever mess he got himself into, and then get back to take her out to dinner. Tony placed the ring back in the box and put it into his shirt, driving faster. A flash startled him, interrupting his daydreams. He swore in Spanish as he noticed the speed camera too late. 'Not again! And in mom's car too! She'll be really mad!'

A little further on he turned off the highway and entered a much narrower road, glancing at his watch. He really would need to hurry. Heaven only knew how long it would take to find the trailer park. A van passed him, flashing its headlights. He slowed instantly, barely avoiding another camera.

The trailer park was set a mile off the road behind thick bushes. He would have driven straight past it had a car not turned out. Tony drove in slowly, noting the derelict looking vans, the lines of washing strung between trees, and the shabby looking children running barefoot everywhere. Suddenly he was glad he had come in his mother's small car, aware of the attention he received. He asked one of the older ones the direction to the Sanchez trailer. It was one of the shabbier ones, a broken brick propping the door open and two young children playing on what could only have been a discarded piece of carpet in front. They looked at him startled. He smiled reassuringly at them and knocked on the door. Both children stared at him in surprise.

A young woman appeared, carrying a baby. 'You are Lieutenant Almeida?' she asked, looking him up and down. Tony nodded, knowing he always would be that to his men.

'You want to tell me what's going on?' he asked. The tale saddened him. Sanchez and his wife had been buying a house once, but had lost everything when he lost his job. They had moved to this van when their home was repossessed. They owned nothing beyond what he could see around him. They had been forced to borrow from a man who lent people a couple of hundred, and were unable to pay it back. He had sent his men round to demand payment yesterday. They wanted $ 5000. They had until today to pay it back, or else they'd be dealt with. Sanchez had gone to talk to the man, failing to return.

'That's against the law,' Tony exclaimed, shocked, remembering what a good sniper Sanchez was.

'Not round here it isn't, signor! Everyone in the park owes him money. His men burn your trailer down if you don't pay up.'

'Why didn't you call the police?' he asked, having a pretty good idea already.

'Signor, we got to live somehow. Not every bit of work we done is exactly…..' she waved her hand in the air. Tony nodded. They were paid in cash for questionable activities. That ruled out asking the police for help. He would just have to go and question the loan shark himself. He left $200 with the oldest child playing on the carpet, instructing her to give it to her mother.

She gave him an accurate enough description of the address. It was a couple of miles outside the nearest town, a large house on a rural property. Tony set off; attempting to call Michelle to explain he might be a little late, but his phone had no reception. He put it back inside the dash board. The house loomed in the distance. He slowed and drove up to a large gate, opened it and drove inside. He pulled up at the house, noting the presence of six other vehicles.

The door opened before he could knock on it, revealing a thug in a grey tank-top. 'Name,' he demanded, looking him over.

Tony forced himself to be polite. 'Tony Almeida. I'm looking for a Mr. Wilson.' The thug snorted and called to someone further back in the house. 'A suit to see Mr. Wilson.' A moment later he turned back to Tony. 'Get inside.'

Tony blinked a little at the impolite invitation, entering a large house. He followed the thug along the passage, reassured by the presence of his gun. Mr. Wilson proved to be in the dining-room having lunch. He ignored Tony, cutting up a piece of steak and chewing slowly. Tony seethed, longing to lift Wilson by his collar and shake him.

'You a cop?' Wilson inquired a minute later, wiping his face on his sleeve. 'I don't seem to know you.'

Tony pulled out his wallet. 'Federal Agent. I need to ask you a few questions.'

'Yeah,' Wilson agreed, pushing his fork through a potato. 'About…?'

Tony's patience waned. 'I'm looking for Sanchez,' he said firmly. 'Now you'll start paying attention to me right now. Where…'

Wilson waved a hand at him. 'The fed's getting restless. He's looking for the other Latino. You want to take him to join him.' Two men moved behind Tony. 'Your gun, fed,' demanded one.

'Listen guys, you don't want to do anything stupid,' Tony warned.

'Sure we do,' Wilson exclaimed. 'Take him away, he's bothering my lunch!'

Tony snatched his gun, aiming it directly at Wilson. 'That's enough now. You're coming with me. Move.'

'This one's got spirit,' Wilson said admiringly. He pushed his chair aside and moved in front of Tony, back down the passage. Tony held his gun to his head, fingers on the trigger. 'Bob' Wilson said, and Tony saw the movement a second too late. He received a massive blow on the head from someone up the staircase and sank against the wall, managing to fire off a round. He felt his gun pulled from his hand. 'That's better,' Wilson said. 'Now call the sheriff and find out whether anyone actually sent the fed here. And take him outside.'

Two men dragged him through the garden and pushed him into a storeroom. He heard the door slam shut behind him and sank to the floor, rubbing his head. He heard movement close by and blinked rapidly, trying to focus. The shape of a man swam in and out of his vision.

'Lieutenant Almeida!' cried a voice, and Tony felt someone pull him against a wall. 'What are you doing here? Did they hurt you?'

'I'm fine,' he answered, sitting up straighter. 'What the hell is wrong with these people? I came to look for you, of course.'

Sanchez stared amazed. 'You must have pissed them off real bad, sir. They don't like visitors.'

Tony rubbed his head. 'Yeah,' he said. 'Now we got to think…' They froze, hearing the door open. Four armed men entered, pointing their weapons at them. They grabbed Sanchez and pushed him against the wall, holding a gun to his temple.

'Now, federal agent, you'd better behave real nicely, or your friend here gets shot. Turn round real slow and put your hands behind your back.' Sanchez threw him an uneasy look. Tony sighed and did as they ordered. He felt his wrists bound together with cord.

'Hey, not so tight. The blood's got to circulate,' he exclaimed, feeling the cord cutting into his flesh.

'Shut up! Now Mr. Wilson wants to talk to you. He talks, you answer, see!' He waved a gun at Tony. Tony nodded. 'Good, lets move.' He followed them back across the garden and into the house. Mr. Wilson had evidently eaten as much of his lunch as he could for he was sitting on a sofa, surrounded by armed men.

'Where's my car?' Tony began, having noticed its absence. One of the men sent to fetch him hit him on the back with his rifle.

Wilson actually smiled. 'We set fire to it, of course!'

'What?' Tony exclaimed.

'Wouldn't want you to leave, now would I?' asked Wilson coldly. 'Now federal agent, we didn't invite you here. If you wouldn't have come looking for that Latino, I'd even have let you go to track illegals or whatever the hell you people do, but you seem to know too much about my business.' He got up and stood before Tony. 'My business is private, see.'

'Your business is illegal,' Tony retorted. 'You'll go to prison.'

'I'm growing a little tired of you,' Wilson told him. 'Nor do I believe anyone knows you're here, so you'd do better to shut up!' Tony chewed his lip, furious. 'Now what shall we do with him, boys?'

'Hang him, boss!' one of them suggested. The others voiced their approval loudly.

Tony swallowed. He had been in worse situations before, he had to have been. He just couldn't think when.

'Make sure he don't have any tracking device on him,' Wilson ordered. Two men set about feeling him all over, while a third held a gun to his head.

'Boss, I got something.' One man handed Wilson the box from his shirt pocket.

'Hey, that's mine! Give it back now!' Tony hissed, taking a step forward. He got another blow to the head, which only enraged him further. He took another step towards Wilson, dragging the two men who held his arms with him.

Wilson opened the box and removed the ring, holding it up to show the entire room. 'Nice, real nice,' he said. 'Thanks.' He replaced it in the box and put it into his pocket. 'That'll more than cover the cost of the damage your bullet made to my wall.'

Enraged, Tony took another step towards him, attempting to get to the box. A third blow to his head sent him reeling. He sank onto his knees closing his eyes while the world spun sickeningly round him. A hand dragged him up. A push propelled him directly in front of Wilson.

'Guys, much as I'd love to see a hanging, I have to say no at the moment. It's too bright, we don't want no one noticing anything. We'll have to wait till its dark. Find that other Latino; tell him to dig a grave near the palm tree. And take our agent to watch. After all, federal agent,' he said, turning to face Tony, 'not many people get to witness their own graves dug. That Latino can tell everyone in the trailer park, and we'll put the fear of God into them! Teach them to call the feds!'

'If you kill me, they will catch you eventually, and when they do, you'll face a certain death penalty,' Tony warned. 'Just let me go now and…'

'I'm getting that sick of this bastard's voice!' cried Wilson. 'Deal with him before he watches his grave being dug.'

Tony felt himself being turned and was dragged outside and back into the store room. Sanchez was hauled up and removed, and he was left alone with four men. He tried to move his hands, but the cord held secure, cutting into his wrists. He was given a firm push and fell face forwards, unable to break his fall. They set about kicking him and punching him, beating him all the harder when he managed to kick a few of them. Eventually they left him on the floor and locked him into the store room. He lay there dazed, barely able to breathe.

'Focus Almeida, they'll kill you if you don't. No one will come looking for you for ages; you've got to get out of here by yourself.' He attempted to move, groaning aloud. 'Much more of that beating, and they wouldn't have had the pleasure of your hanging', he thought grimly. He had to get out of that room now, before they could return. Taking a deep breath he crawled to the door, lying just behind it, determined to listen for their return. No one came towards him. Slowly the slit of light disappeared from underneath the door, plunging his room into complete darkness. If he was lucky his escape would work even better in darkness, he thought, working hard to keep his spirits up. They would not hang him!

He forced himself up when he heard footsteps coming towards the storeroom, standing behind the door. Would they fall for the oldest trick in the book? He hoped so, they seemed ignorant enough. The door was unlocked and two men stepped in with drawn guns. They flashed their torches about, exclaiming in a rage. 'The fed's gone.' Tony forced his aching body to slip outside the door banging it shut, and along the side of the building, stopping when he felt cold metal against his head.

'Very good, fed. If I were a betting man I'd place a lot of money on you. Look at this guy,' Wilson continued, hauling Tony round to face his men who had come running at the shouts from the storeroom. 'He's beaten to within an inch of his life, his hands are tied behind him, yet he still gets out. You could learn from him!' He turned to Tony. 'You've had your amusement, agent Almeida. Now it's our turn. Take him to the oak tree!'

Tony struggled all the way to the oak tree, earning himself a few extra kicks which he barely felt. They passed a large rectangle dug into the ground. 'Your grave, agent. Take a good look,' Wilson told him. They pushed him up to the edge, forcing him to peer inside.

'God help me,' Tony prayed softly. 'Help me find a way to get out of this.'

He decided he was not going to stand quietly and allow them to slip a noose round his neck – he'd rather risk running for it and getting shot. He could deal with getting shot, but the thought of hanging terrified him. He stood perfectly still for a second as a man resigned to his fate, before kicking Wilson as hard as he could in the knee and running blindly among the shrubs. Shots rang after him, missing him by a fraction as they ricocheted off the trees. He heard yells behind him and dozens of footsteps in close pursuit. Where was he going? He knew he would never be able to climb the gate with his hands bound behind him.

Tony hid behind a bush and attempted to cut the cord with a sharp stick, rubbing his wrists against it as hard as he could. Whenever anyone came close he paused, pressing himself into the shadows. He worked hard, determined to free his arms. The cord burned against his skin, rubbing his wrists raw. He hoped he was making progress, running his fingers along the cord during a time he was forced to stay silent. It seemed a little frayed, but wouldn't give when he pulled.

A new sound made his breath catch, causing him to stiffen. What had he heard? Dogs running across the garden, panting, heading straight for him. Desperately he looked round for a weapon, picking up a stick. They were upon him a few seconds later, knocking him to the ground, pinning him down, savaging his clothes. Their breath blew on his face. He managed to hit one with his stick, hearing the animal yelp, feeling its teeth sink into his arm. He yelled in pain.

'Sit,' Wilson ordered, and the dogs left him. 'You're a slow learner, Almeida! No one leaves my property without my permission. Bring him back to the tree.'

Two men dragged him along all the way through the garden. A rope was laid round his neck, the other end thrown over a sturdy branch. 'Focus, Almeida. You tried everything you could. Don't be scared, this won't take long.' He struggled with his fear, determined not to let anyone see how he felt.

Gunshots distracted him. All the men turned in its direction, leaving him alone, unable to remove the noose from his neck.

'Tony, where are you?' He glanced around, recognizing the voice. 'Tony!'

'I'm here, honey,' he called, trying to keep the weakness from his voice.

Michelle raced over to him, a member of the swat team in close pursuit. 'Ms Dessler, please. The area hasn't been secured yet,' the man told her. She paid him no heed, throwing her arms round him.

'What have they done to you? Oh God, Tony, you've got a noose round you.' She took out her knife and cut it off while he stood immobile. 'Give me your hands. Tony, they're cut right through, they're bleeding. What happened there?' She pointed to his upper arm.

'Honey, I'm fine,' he began, but she wouldn't let him continue.

'No you're not. Doctor, he's here!' He recognized CTU's doctor hurrying towards them.

'My God, Michelle, how many people did you bring to rescue me?' he asked, noticing Jack rounding up a few men.

'Just Jack and a swat team and the doctor,' she said, taking his arm to steady him. The doctor laid him in an ambulance and removed his shirt, examining his bruises. He shone a light into Tony's eyes. 'It's ok now, Tony, its over,' Michelle told him, stroking his cheek. 'We're going now.'

A sudden thought occurred to him. He sat up despite the doctor's protests. 'Wait here, honey, I'll be right back.' He stumbled over to where Jack was securing the men. Wilson sat with his hands cuffed behind him glaring at a policeman. Jack looked startled by his appearance. 'I must look bad,' he thought, bending towards Wilson and grabbing him by his shirt. 'Where's my ring, you sonofabitch?' he demanded, shaking him. Wilson nodded towards his jacket. Tony removed the box and managed to stumble back to where the doctor waited with Michelle.

'Mr. Almeida, lie still,' the doctor said, shining his light into Tony's other eye. 'Look at the light, will you.' Tony did his best to look into the bright torchlight that hurt his eyes, opening the box. He felt nothing inside. Once again he sat up, gazing at it. It was definitely empty!

'Where do you think you're going?' yelled the doctor exasperated as he stumbled out of the ambulance for the second time. The ground swayed in front of him as he made his way to Wilson, shaking him as hard as he could.

'Easy, Tony,' Jack told him. Tony shook his arm off his shoulder, shaking Wilson again.

'I want the ring too, you bastard. Not just the box! I'll cut your throat if you don't tell me where it is!'

Wilson told him it was upstairs in the largest bedroom in the top drawer. Tony set off towards the house, crawling up the stairs, fighting pain and dizziness. He found the room and opened the drawer, pulling out his ring. His fingers closed over it and he sank down, fighting to get his breath back. He almost rolled down the stairs, sinking in a heap on the bottom. Michelle and the doctor picked him up, concern on their faces.

'Tony,' Michelle said, gently. 'What are you doing?'

He took her hand and pushed the ring into it placing it on her finger. 'For you,' he said, closing his eyes.

* * *

The cell seemed extra silent as he sat in his corner, head pressed against the wall. He rested his eyes, closing them, seeing Michelle bending over him in a hospital bed, kissing him, wearing the ring. He'd gazed at her questioningly, trying to formulate a sentence. 'Tony I'd love to marry you,' she said, hugging him gently. 

'Really,' he'd asked, unable to believe his good fortune.

'Really.'


	43. Chapter Forty Three

They faced each other across his office, Michelle glaring. Tony held up a hand, intending to explain he had been just as surprised as she was, but he wasn't given the opportunity to open his mouth. Michelle pointed downstairs furiously. 'What the hell is she doing here? I can't believe you invited her. After all we're been through. I thought we were friends! I thought we had something together. Obviously I was wrong. Real wrong. I…'

'Honey, listen,' he attempted to interrupt.

'Don't call me "honey!" How can you, after you called her! Don't even think of speaking to me tonight, Tony Almeida!'

She stormed from his office, closing the door a lot louder than necessary. Tony paced his office, watching her settle at her desk and begin her work. He snatched up the phone.

'Dessler.' The voice was surprisingly composed.

'Honey, I didn't….' He heard the line end abruptly. He swore to himself, dialing her number again. 'Michelle, I'd like to see you upstairs right away! There's some _work_ related stuff we need to discuss.' He heard her hang up, and stood in the middle of his office wandering what to do when he saw her climbing the stairs. He forced himself to sit at his desk. Now did he have anything work related to discuss with her? Most likely there were plenty of things, only he hadn't even switched on his computer yet, so he really wasn't certain.

Michelle pushed open his door and took a step inside his office, leaving it open behind her. Tony got up slowly and walked round her, pulling it shut. He tried to look into her eyes, but she stared determinedly at the ground.

'Mr. Chappelle is paying us a surprise visit, Michelle,' he said, hoping she'd stop blaming him for the incident. 'I had no idea he was coming. And I sure as_ hell_ didn't know he'd bring Carrie with him. Honey, if I knew he was coming, I'd have completed a lot more paperwork than I did, I'd have issued everyone a memo to clear _all_ coffee mugs from their desks, to arrive a few minutes early. I didn't know about it. I'll have him after me all day. It's going to be a real bad day, so please don't make it worse. Think about it this way, it's now 8:37. Seven minutes have already passed! We've only got to survive till 5:00. It will pass!'

'It will pass alright, but will we survive it?' he wandered, watching her face.

Michelle raised her eyes to meet his, less annoyed but not happy yet. 'OK, Tony, I'll try. Just keep her away from me!'

'Honey, I gave her a desk at the other side of the building, but I can't keep her chained to it.' He lifted her head, willing her to smile at him. 'I got a surprise tonight. We're going out to dinner to a real romantic place Anna recommended, so try to focus on that.' He bent forward to give her a kiss.

Michelle gave him a real smile, returning his kiss. He held her close to him, feeling her heart beating against his. Reluctantly he let her go. 'Sweetheart, Chappelle's on the floor, looking for one of us, I'll bet. We'd better do some work.' Michelle nodded and left his office.

Tony wiped his forehead and settled at his own desk, switching on his computer. He studied the screen groaning. It was going to be another one of those busy days, monitoring dozens of terrorist cells, rather than focusing on anything specific. He handed out various assignments to his staff and started to check one man in particular whose face seemed vaguely familiar to him. The man turned out to have several aliases, and Tony gradually forgot about everything else. A loud argument broke his concentration. He blinked, moving to peer downstairs. He sighed heavily, rubbing his head. Was it really necessary to have looked?

He hurried downstairs, interrupting the argument. 'A word, Michelle.' Michelle followed him over to her workstation, casting a dirty look back at Carrie. Experience told him they had by no means finished their discussion! He watched Carrie walking back to her desk, and leaned in carefully to Michelle. 'Michelle, people are watching you. Can't you keep it down? Why aren't you working at your desk?'

Michelle glared at him, taking a step away. 'I was there. She came to bother me. Now I'm going over to tech one to work in peace.'

Tony nodded, relieved. 'Ok, sounds fine.'

'It's hardly "ok" Tony!' she told him, grabbing a handful of papers and pushing past him. He hurried to keep up with her. 'You haven't told Carrie anything, have you? So quit bothering me!'

He stopped, watching her stride across the floor and over to tech one. Keeping his face emotionless he turned, noting one of the senior analysts grinned at him. He sighed, returning to his office. Now where was he exactly? He delved deeper into the suspect, interested to note he had studied in a British university a couple of years ago. Now why did he look familiar?

His phone rang, interrupting him yet again. He sighed heavily. 'CTU Almeida.'

'Tony, we need you to join our meeting down in the conference room,' Chappelle told him.

Tony almost groaned. He had been delighted that Chappelle's schedule seemed to consist mainly of discussions with Field Ops that day. 'Ryan, I'm in the middle of something,' he protested, knowing it was futile.

'Right now, Tony.' Chappelle hung up before he could say anything further.

'Damn,' Tony muttered, leaving his office. Jack nodded at him as he entered, looking slightly relieved to see him. Chappelle sat at the head of the table with his usual sour expression. Tony settled opposite Jack. 'You wanted to see me, Ryan?' he asked.

'I did. Now I don't need to tell you that Field Ops has been rather late handing in incident reports. You have been sending me completed cases without having received the correct documentation from Field Ops. You must know this is against all our regulations. You can't possibly file a case without all the paperwork. Care to explain?'

Jack actually looked uncomfortable. They glanced at each other before Tony turned to face Chappelle. 'Ryan, Field Ops has dealt with three major crises last week. They physically didn't have the time to complete any reports! Jack and I worked closely on apprehending those groups, I was aware of what happened, and we had a discussion on his return, so I felt confident enough sending those files over to Division as 'closed cases' because I know for a fact that they're closed.'

'Almeida, how can you possibly know that without having read Jack's report?' questioned Chappelle irritated.

'Mr. Chappelle, the men listed in the report are dead!' Tony paused for emphasis, noting Chappelle didn't look as though it made any difference. 'They're not going to be bothering us any time soon! How much more 'closed' can a case be!'

Chappelle frowned at Tony, tapping an empty file in irritation. 'Almeida, I don't want to continue this discussion. Where do you think you're going?' he asked suddenly, as Tony pushed his chair back. 'Sit down. We haven't finished.' He waited in silence while Tony pulled his chair out and sat back down. 'Now Jack is going to write up the entire weeks' reports, and you're going to file them, and that's the way it will continue in the future. Any further deviation will result in disciplinary action taken against the pair of you. Is that understood?'

'Yes, Ryan,' Jack said, clearly impatient to be gone.

'Tony,' Chappelle inquired.

'Sure Ryan,' Tony told him, equally impatient. 'Jack will sit here all week writing reports, and I'll keep an eye on the terrorists, hopefully track them till next week when he can go round them up!'

Chappelle looked at him steadily for a moment. 'You may go, Jack.' Jack got up and left the room, giving Tony a little shake of his head. 'Tony, I'm not certain you're taking this seriously enough,' he began. 'Let me warn you again, follow your orders to the letter and make sure Jack follows his. Handing completed documents on to Division is your responsibility – see that you do it properly. Chase him up for paperwork if you have to. Now I'll be working upstairs, you may get on with your own work, and I expect to be taking some _completed_ reports back with me this afternoon!'

'Yes Mr. Chappelle,' Tony said, getting out of his chair and hurrying upstairs. He found the file he had been examining before, reading the previous information to refresh his memory. There had been something he had planned to examine in greater detail, but he couldn't recall what. He spent five minutes checking through his notes before he remembered. He wanted to run the face against all known Arab terrorists.

His phone interrupted him before he could start. 'CTU Almeida.'

'Mr. Almeida, you might like to wander past tech one,' the old analyst told him, hesitantly.

'Sure,' Tony agreed. 'Thanks, William.' He hurried downstairs and over to tech one, hearing a commotion before he even opened the door. Michelle and Carrie stood inches apart, glaring at each other. Neither had heard the door open.

'Is that right?' Carrie was asking.

'You can count on it!' Michelle hissed. 'You ever….'

Tony approached them, glancing pointedly from one to the other. 'Is there a problem here?' Neither answered him. 'Ok, then I suggest we all get back to work. You here for a specific reason, Carrie?'

'Just passing,' Carrie said, giving Michelle a meaningful look. She left the room and Tony sat on a desk.

'Michelle, we already discussed this. You two should let each other be and above all else, _keep it down_! How do you think I feel when I get called to look in here? I got that much work I don't even know where to start. Could you just give me a break?'

'Fine,' Michelle retorted. 'Go do your work, Tony. I can do mine!'

'I just wish you would,' Tony snapped. He found himself returning her glare. Irritated, she turned her back on him, tapping on her keyboard. He observed her in silence for another minute before leaving the room. He went to get himself a cup of coffee, noting with irritation that his mug wasn't in its usual place in the kitchen. Annoyed, he opened the cupboard further and looked through the entire selection of mugs. No matter how many he pushed aside, his mug was nowhere to be seen. He swore aloud.

'What's wrong, Tony? Apart from being ticked off by Chappelle?' Jack inquired, standing behind him. 'Could you move for a moment? I need a mug.' He pulled one out at random, pouring himself a coffee. 'Tony, tell me. I've got to go write up a dozen reports, you know.'

Tony failed to grin, staring moodily into the cupboard. Jack stared at him in concern. 'Tony, tell me now,' he insisted.

Tony shook his head rapidly. 'It's just the whole day. Everyone keeps interrupting me. Michelle is mad at me for letting Carrie come here – how the hell could I know she'd come, and Chappelle is missing a few reports, and now some bastard has taken my mug!' He bit his lip, ashamed of his outburst.

Jack actually laughed aloud. 'I might have seen the mug,' he remarked, watching Tony carefully. 'Want to guess where?'

Tony folded his arms across his chest, thoroughly sick of the entire day. 'I don't want to guess, Jack, I want you to tell me so I'll go get it back!'

'Inadvisable move,' Jack told him. 'Chappelle's got it upstairs. I saw him carrying it on top of a massive pile of documents. Nearly dropped it too.' Tony gasped. Jack chuckled and laid a hand on his shoulder. 'Only kidding. Lighten up, Tony. You'll get it back after 5:00. Here,' he pulled a mug out at random, 'use this one today. It's got a nice cat. You like cats, you know.'

'I hate them,' Tony said obstinately, refusing to be pulled from his black mood.

Jack replaced the mug, grinning wider, and handed him another. 'Then have a dog. Man's best friend, etc. It's almost the same size, too. Or you can choose from a range of lovely flowers.'

'I'll keep the dog,' Tony snapped, pouring himself a coffee. Michelle entered, saw them and took a step backwards.

'I'll get back to my _work_, Tony. Wouldn't want to interrupt your schedule again!'

Jack shook his head, trying and failing to hide his grin. 'Someone's going to be sleeping on the couch tonight!' he remarked.

'If you're done bugging me, Jack, you could go write up a couple of reports for me, you know, so I could hand them on to Chappelle!' Tony hissed, leaving the room in a temper. He carried his coffee upstairs and moved his mouse, seeing the suspect's face on his screen. Now, he was going to compare his face to other known terrorists. He settled in to watch faces scrolling across his screen, sipping the coffee. It really didn't taste the same, he thought gloomily, scrolling down the pages of photos. Nothing matched with anything on their data base. He chewed his lip, thinking hard. He had seen that face before, he just couldn't recall where. The man was no innocent student, he would bet on it.

His head began to ache, causing him to wince. Now he had aspirins somewhere in his top drawer. He rummaged through it, not surprised to find an empty packet. 'Dammit' he said loudly, wandering what else would go wrong that day. He watched a few more pages of pictures before deciding to go to medical and get something. If only the doctor would be out and he could just help himself.

The doctor was in, however, and waved Tony to a seat. 'I don't have time now, Neil,' Tony said, trying to sound fine. 'I just came for a packet of aspirins.'

'You should relax and drink less coffee, Tony, it would help more,' the doctor told him, handing him two tablets. 'I can't give out more than a couple at a time. Come back in three hours if you need more.'

Tony thanked him and headed towards his office, pausing to glance into tech one on his way. He had to apologize to Michelle, and before they got home, or he really might find himself sleeping on the couch. Tech one was empty, her work running on the computer, her mug on the desk, a half eaten cookie next to it. He settled down to wait for her, growing uneasy as a few minutes passed without her. He called up the entrance log, wandering whether she had gone for lunch, but it showed her still in the building. On the spur of the moment he decided to return to his office and check the cameras. He settled at his desk, searching the entire floor unsuccessfully, before a sudden idea hit him. He selected the camera beside Carrie's desk, leaning forward to see better.

Michelle was indeed there, looking madder than he'd ever seen her. She looked as though she would deal with Carrie physically at any moment, and Carrie looked as though she'd welcome it. Right now they were just threatening each other in low voices, but he could tell it wouldn't last long. Right above them Chappelle sat in his office, the Cubs mug perched dangerously near the edge. He forced himself to ignore the mug and dialed Carrie's extension, watching the argument continue without either of them moving towards the phone.

Tony muttered a few Spanish oaths and left his office in a rush, hurrying down the stairs and across the floor. He rounded the last few desks and grabbed Michelle's arm firmly, pulling her back a step. 'What's going on here?' he demanded, gazing from one to the other. Michelle pulled her arm from his grasp, glaring at him.

'I was just working when she came to threaten me,' Carrie said sulkily.

'Just stay at your station and work then,' Tony told her in disgust. 'She won't come near you again today. Michelle, a word,' he pulled her arm again as she showed little sign of leaving.

Once again she shook his hand off, following him with a firm set to her mouth and her eyes flashing up to his office. Tony folded his arms across his chest and glared at her.

'This is too much, Michelle! You're not a kid anymore. So you hate her, so she hates you. Leave her alone. Why did you have to go continue the quarrel at her desk?'

'It's none of your business, Tony,' Michelle answered, stubbornly. 'I can take care of it.'

Anger rose inside him. 'It _is_ my business, Michelle. I'm your boss, dammit. I'm _sick_ of finding you and Carrie quarreling every time my back is turned. Now it's obvious you two can't work in the same building, so maybe you should just go home! I'll put you down as leaving with a headache. Go now, before Chappelle fires you!'

Michelle stared at him shocked. She swallowed hard, before turning and racing down the steps. He watched her snatch her bag and leave the building. The outside camera showed his car reversing dangerously fast, stopping inches from another parked car, then driving rapidly down the ramp. He buried his head in his hands.

She was mad enough to kill him now! He was mad at her too, but he knew by the time 5:00 came around he would go and apologize. Would she forgive him? He doubted it. No, she wouldn't, certainly not today. He sank into his chair, gazing at the screen in despair. Why the hell had Chappelle come to check their performance that day? What devil possessed him to bring Carrie? He felt like strangling them both.

Strangling? He grabbed his mouse, pushing the picture to a corner, logging into the military database. The kidnappers of the sailors lay on the floor, just as Evans had filmed them. He selected a picture and enlarged it, pulling the living one over it. He had an almost perfect match! He failed to feel any satisfaction.

* * *

He sat on the bed and sighed, hating the memory. Without doubt it had been the worst day they'd spent at CTU, followed by a miserable few days at home. He remembered his depression arriving home and finding the apartment empty, the hours he spent searching for her.

Two guards patrolled the corridor. They were new – he hadn't seen them before. He wandered how many of them there were in the building. Disinterestedly he watched them walking past his cell, wishing they'd leave. How could anyone expect him to sleep if strangers kept peering in on him? To his irritation one of them looked straight at him, rather than ignore him as the rest had.

'Prisoner, rise.'

Tony sighed so loudly he was sure the entire corridor echoed. He got up as slowly as he dared and put his hands behind his back, standing in the middle of the cell. 'What in the world could they want with him now?' he wandered. As far as he knew sitting on top of a bed was not an offence.

'Prisoner, why aren't you sleeping? Its 3:00 a.m.' He detected less hostility in this guard's voice than in any of the previous ones.

Did he dare risk asking for his blanket and an aspirin? Well, he had nothing to lose, so he would give it a go. 'I'm too cold to sleep,' Tony explained quietly. 'The last guards removed my blanket. I'd look after it real well if I could get it back.' He raised his eyes to look directly at the guard.

The guard sighed. 'I'll go check' he said, and they left. Tony went to the door and watched them as far as he could see, all the way down the corridor. He waited a few minutes, amazed to hear the footsteps returning.

'Prisoner, move to the back of your cell and face the wall.' Tony did as he was told, surprised his door was opened. Three guards entered while one remained in the corridor. He heard his blanket being laid on the bed. 'Alright, prisoner, I'm watching you. If that blanket leaves the bed at any time, I will remove it immediately. Do you understand?'

'Yes sir,' Tony said. 'Thank you, sir.'

The guards left without answering him. Eagerly he felt for the photo. Shaking fingers pulled it out pressing it close to him. He lay under the blanket, slipping under it for a minute to kiss her smiling face, before laying it on his chest. He closed his eyes, determined to sleep.


	44. Chapter Forty Four

Jack dropped him at his apartment, glancing at him questioningly. 'Sure you'll be ok, Tony?'

'Yeah,' he answered, not sure at all. He grabbed his briefcase and opened the door. 'Thanks for the ride, Jack.'

Jack grinned. 'Anytime. If I don't see you at work tomorrow, I'll check the hospitals. Bye.'

Tony nodded soberly and walked across the garden, checking the garage. His car was there, unscratched. He breathed a sigh of relief and went to the lift. It took a while to come, depositing a couple who walked out hand in hand. He took a deep breath and walked inside, envying the unknown young man. His key opened the door easily enough – good, she hadn't changed the lock!

His apartment was silent. He laid his briefcase down by the door and walked in quietly, wandering where she would be. The kitchen was as empty as he'd expected. A plate lay on the counter, with the remains of a sandwich. An empty glass lay beside it. He put them in the sink automatically and stepped into the living room. It was empty, the blinds drawn. A magazine lay on the coffee table, her slippers beside the couch. The dining room was equally empty, the table clean, a bill on top of it. So she'd brought in the mail. Slowly he walked down the passage into the bedroom. He hoped she'd be lying on the bed, so he could bend forward and kiss her and say sorry.

He had been more miserable that day at CTU than any other. He had sent the information about the suspect over to Division, together with Jack's completed reports, and he had safely retrieved his mug the moment Chappelle had left. He rinsed it out carefully, carried it back to his office and placed it in his top drawer. The rest of the day had been spent gazing down at Michelle's workstation, wandering what to say to her.

He pushed the bedroom door open, noticing at once that it was empty. He sighed, his final hope of being able to retrieve something of the evening lost. She was out, without even leaving him a note to let him know her whereabouts. Tony sat on the bed and rested his elbows on his knees, placing his head in his hands. She was mad at him!

'Why the hell did I have to send her home?' he wandered for the hundredth time. 'I could've just let them argue all day in tech one, for instance. She would've yelled herself out and she'd be mad at Carrie and not me. Now she's mad at Carrie and _furious_ with me! You're a real idiot, Almeida!'

Slowly he got up, his agent training taking over, opening the cupboard. Her clothes were all there, and her shoes. Something had to be missing. Was it one of her nice dresses, indicating she'd gone shopping, or was it her bathers? Try as he might he found no answers. Her bathers were on the shelf where he'd placed them yesterday evening, and she had so many dresses he found it impossible to remember them all. She wasn't at the beach, that's all he learned.

Taking a deep breath he called her cell, hearing its ring. 'Come on Michelle, pick up,' he exclaimed, as the ringing continued. 'The person you are trying to call is unavailable. Please try again later.' 'Dammit' he muttered. 'I know you can hear that, honey. Why won't you pick up and let me explain?' In desperation he dialed again, hearing the ringing till he got the same irritating voice. He hung up and replaced his phone.

Hopefully she would come back soon. It was getting dark outside. Tony went back to the kitchen and cleaned her plate and glass, then wandered into the bathroom and cleaned the shower, remembering she had asked him to do that yesterday. He dried himself and checked the time. 7:48, dark outside and no Michelle. Silently he wandered into the kitchen, eating the sandwich he had been unable to face at lunch.

Unable to relax any longer he opened his laptop and logged into CTU's server. He called up old satellite images and watched them carefully, checking for her car leaving the garage. He noticed it leaving just after 1:00, heading towards the beach. He swore in genuine annoyance as the satellite feed ended. Desperately he searched for the next feed, but he had lost her! Tony got up, pacing the living room. He called her again, receiving no answer. Well, he would go down towards the beach; there was little else that way. He would track her until he found her, and he would ask why she didn't answer her phone. 'No you won't, Almeida! You'll say sorry real nicely, or you won't go at all,' he told himself sternly. He grabbed his keys, stopping to write her a note in case she returned.

_Sweetheart, I went out to look for you because there's NO WAY I can relax without you. I'll be back soon. Could you please please call me if you read this note. I'm really sorry about today._

_I love you so much. Tony _

He left the note on the coffee table and left the apartment, leaving a small lamp on in the living room so she wouldn't step into total darkness. She had to come home before him, she just had to!

Miserably he unlocked his car and started it up; driving along the road he'd seen her taking, hoping she'd gone to the beach. The beach was deserted, the car park was empty. He glanced around sadly and drove off, wandering where he could look now. He drove round checking her friends' houses, but her car wasn't at any of them. Dispirited, he drove back to his apartment, wandering what he would do if she wasn't there.

She wasn't there. The lamp still shone and his note lay on the table untouched. Tony sank onto the couch. He had searched everywhere he could think of. She wasn't at any of her friends, she'd just vanished. What if she never came back? Or what if she came back to collect her things and left him? A groan escaped him. What a fool he'd been! So she was in a bad mood, so she wanted to spend the day arguing with Carrie, who was he to interfere? Sure he was her boss, but he was also her boyfriend, and by now the emphasis lay on the word 'was'. She certainly couldn't bear to see him anymore! Tears crept into his eyes which he angrily blinked away.

He would track her to the end of the earth if he had to, to say sorry and beg her to come back. He just needed a lead, and so far he had nothing. His eyes searched the empty living room, resting on a small photo on the bookshelf. He had his arms around Michelle, and her arm was wrapped around him, her hair blowing in the strong sea breeze. He chewed his lip hard, wiping his eyes. She was never coming back.

His cell rang, startling him. He glanced at the number, feeling despair when his hopes were dashed. It definitely wasn't Michelle.

'Hi Tony, I thought I'd check if you're still alive,' Jack said, quietly.

'I'm ok,' Tony said dully, wiping his face again.

'Didn't you guys make up yet?' Jack asked him, concerned.

'Hell Jack, I would've apologized hours ago if I knew where she was,' Tony exclaimed, fighting to keep his voice steady. 'She's vanished. I checked all her friends, she's nowhere, and its real late now.'

'Did you check her relatives?' Jack asked.

'She's only got a brother here, and he's away on holiday now…I didn't check there,' Tony said slowly.

'Well you should. Especially if she can have the place to herself. Call me if you don't find her, ok?'

'Sure Jack,' Tony said, getting up again and putting his keys in his pockets. 'I owe you one.' He hurried back to the car and drove to Danny's apartment. He had been there only once, clearly not welcome. The building was old and dreary, in need of maintenance outside. Broken glass littered the car park; he left his car in a distant corner hoping it would still be there when he returned. He locked it and wandered through the dark car park, pausing in the middle. Her car was there, parked between two vans.

Tony leaned against a dark street lamp and wiped his eyes again, swallowing the lump in his throat. He had found her! 'Pull yourself together, Almeida,' he said to himself sternly, waiting another minute to settle down. 'Now you go in and apologize and beg her to come home.' He entered the dark apartment block, noting the light still wasn't fixed, and found the lift. A large white card hung in front of it "Out of Order". He sighed and went up the five flights of stairs, seeing a light under the door. He drew a deep breath and knocked.

Silence greeted him. He waited a few seconds and knocked again, listening for any sound. He thought he heard movement behind the door, but it remained locked. 'Michelle honey, open the door,' he begged softly, aware of the three other doors on the same floor. Silence greeted him. He knocked again, harder. 'Michelle, open the door. At least talk to me!'

'I don't want to talk to you now, Tony. Go home and do some work,' Michelle called, sounding upset.

So she was obviously still mad at him. Tony shut his eyes for a second. 'Michelle, let me explain. Please open the door,' he begged.

'I don't want to hear any more, Tony. I'm distracting you, that's all. Well, you won't need to be distracted again. Go away.'

'NO, DAMMIT, I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE,' he yelled. He banged hard on the door. 'I'll just sleep right here if you don't let me in!'

A door opened further down the corridor and an irritated woman looked out. 'Shut the hell up,' she yelled. 'It's bloody midnight. Piss off home.'

He was about to yell back at her when the door opened in front of him unexpectedly. 'You shut up,' Michelle yelled at the indignant woman. 'Don't you dare yell at Tony! Get in,' she told him, pulling his sleeve.

Tony followed her into Danny's apartment, noting the incredible mess. He stepped over a pile of dirty washing on the floor and faced her. 'Honey, I'm real sorry. I was way out of line. Please forgive me.' She gazed at him coldly. 'Please come home. You can't want to stay in this dump.' He gazed at her, pleading for her to go with him.

'What if I'm happy here?' Michelle asked. 'I'm not in anybody's way, I'm not distracting anyone.'

'Honey, you can't be happy here,' Tony said, ready to cry. 'The place is a dump. Every light is broken, there's glass everywhere, nothing works, and there's fleas,' he added, scratching his arm irritated. 'Michelle, you're not distracting me. I can't live without you. If you wanna stay here, I'll go get some stuff and come back.' He searched her eyes, trying to see how annoyed she still was. Very annoyed, he could tell. 'Michelle, you probably haven't had dinner yet. We got something at home. Please come back!'

Michelle looked at him steadily for a long while. 'You're really not going to leave, are you, Tony?' she asked eventually.

He shook his head. 'No.'

'Then I'll come back, but we're not talking! You so much as say one word to me, I'll leave. Do you understand?'

He nodded, greatly relieved. 'Sure honey.'

'You don't talk,' Michelle repeated, and grabbed her bag. 'Go now, Tony, I'm coming.'

Tony got back before her, crumbling his note and throwing it in the bin. He opened the fridge and warmed up last night's dinner, putting it on a plate for Michelle. He poured her a glass of juice and put it on the dining room table for her. The door opened again and Michelle stepped in, looking surprised to see her dinner.

'It's for you,' Tony said, watching her reaction. She didn't seem terribly happy with him yet. 'I'm going to the bathroom now.' Michelle nodded and ate fast, showing how hungry she must have been. Seeing the food made him hungry too – he decided he'd have to make himself a sandwich soon. By the time he finished scrubbing himself after Danny's apartment Michelle had finished. The plate had been washed and she was in the bedroom. Tony allowed himself to hope that things would be fine. He turned the handle, dismayed to find it locked.

'Honey…' he began.

'Not tonight, Tony! You're sleeping on the couch!' Michelle called. He heard her lying down on the bed and switching the bedside lamp off.

'But it's my…' he began, then bit his tongue. 'You're a real fool, Almeida,' he thought furiously. 'You tell her it's your bedroom, she'll leave for sure. The couch will be fine tonight!' He sighed. 'My blanket' he finished.

The door opened and a blanket was thrown out, landing on the passage floor. He picked it up and cast a final lingering glance at his door. 'Thanks honey. Goodnight,' he called, and carried the blanket to the couch. He attempted to make himself comfortable, curling his legs and wrapping the blanket round them. It didn't help. His head was too low without his pillow. Sighing heavily, he got up and collected two cushions from the armchairs and placed them under his head. They were too small; his head kept slipping to the gap between them. Why was it that he managed to sleep comfortably on the couch if he fell asleep over the TV, but found it impossible now? It really wasn't that uncomfortable. It took him ages to fall asleep, and he kept being awoken by nightmares of exploding buildings or howling gales.

Michelle woke him the next morning, emerging fully dressed with her bag. He blinked, smiling at her. 'Good morning, honey. Shall I get us some breakfast?'

She gave him a cold look. His heart sank. He was not forgiven yet. 'I've had something. I'm off to work. You can show up whenever you like, Tony, you're the boss, but I got to get there on time!'

Tony pushed the blanket back and sat up, grabbing his watch. 8:05. He would be extremely late! He raced for the bedroom, threw his clothes on, combed his hair and ran for his car, managing to get there by 8:40.

Michelle sat at her desk, working silently, refusing to acknowledge him with the tiniest glance. He climbed the stairs to his office with a heavy heart, sitting at his desk aimlessly. What was he supposed to do here? Ah yes, check the previous night's logs, hand out revised work schedules, and get himself a coffee. He sent Michelle's work directly to her computer and went to the coffee machine. One solitary cookie remained in the packet he kept hidden for emergencies. He chewed it silently, wandering how he would get through the day. For their own sakes the terrorists better lie low right now or he would empty his gun on them.

His phone rang as he sipped the last of his coffee, watching Michelle working just below him. 'CTU Almeida,' he answered, fighting to keep the sigh from his voice.

'Almeida, its Brad Hammond.'

Tony closed his eyes and permitted himself to raise his eyes heavenward in the privacy of his own office. 'How can I help you, sir?' he asked politely.

'You've now had ten weeks to normalize CTU's performance. You seem to have settled into working at 90 capacity. Just because I was away last week doesn't mean you should stop improving. I'm not impressed at all, Almeida! Now I have a little time this morning, so I'll come and see what can be improved for myself.'

'Yes sir,' Tony said, hanging up. 'You're real welcome here, Brad, anytime,' he muttered, checking everyone's work schedule. His eyes moved across the building. Better warn Jack of their visitor.

'Hi Jack,' Tony said, pushing Jack's door open a fraction.

Jack waved him in. 'How's it going, Tony? Not real good?'

'She came home, but we're not talking,' Tony sighed. He leaned against the wall, folding his arms. 'Oh, I got a visitor today. Better look sharp, he might pop in here too after he's finished with me!'

'Chappelle again?' Jack asked, looking concerned. His desk was strewn with papers. The sight would have made Tony laugh at any other time. He shook his head. 'Not Hammond!' Jack asked. Tony nodded. Jack got up, pulling on his jacket. 'I was just off to check out a lead. It might take me a while.'

'Jack,' Tony called, as Jack opened his door. 'You wouldn't need an extra guy, would you? A sniper?'

Jack grinned at him. 'Any other time, I might have said yes. Bye Tony. Don't annoy Hammond!'

Tony returned to his office, noticing Michelle look down quickly at his approach. 'Look sharp, Michelle,' he whispered as he passed. 'Hammond's coming.' She looked up, suitably dismayed. He climbed the stairs to his office, praying he would not bring Carrie with him. Any further sight of Carrie, and he could expect Michelle to hand him his ring back.

Hammond came alone, checking through each department while he stood beside him, asking questions, checking schedules, even examining arrival times and lunch breaks. By the time they were halfway through examining the analysts he felt the beginnings of what proved to be a terrible headache. To his annoyance Hammond told the analysts off before leaving, threatening them with losing their jobs if they didn't work faster.

'Mr. Hammond,' Tony said, struggling to keep his rage under control 'these people work for _me_. If you have any problems, tell them to me!'

Hammond looked at him coldly. 'I will, Almeida, you can be certain of that. I'm unimpressed so far. Even Mason and Bauer kept a tighter rein on this place.' He set off towards the next department, leaving Tony standing alone in the middle of the floor.

'Relax, Almeida. Don't take it personally. You heard him say the exact same words to both Jack and George!' He hurried to the IT department. Michelle watched him out of the corner of her eye. The day dragged on. Tony's headache increased in proportion to his rage. He left early, taking a couple of aspirins and pulling his blanket over his head on the couch.

Michelle got home late, walking straight past him to the bedroom. Tony forced himself off the couch and followed her, stopping just a second before the door slammed in his face. He leaned against the locked door and listened to her having a shower and undressing. 'Honey, please don't do this anymore,' he begged. 'I've had two days from hell, and I've an awful headache. Hammond spent five hours insulting me, I can take that, but I really need a smile from you.' Silence greeted his words. He sighed and turned back to the couch, pulling the blanket over himself.

The door opened and Michelle walked quietly into the living room. She stood above the couch, sighing deeply. Tony pulled the blanket off his head and gazed at her hopefully, not daring to annoy her further by speaking to her.

'You don't look real well,' Michelle observed after a lengthy silence. 'Want to come to bed?'

A grin split his face as got up and followed her, resting his head on her shoulder. 'Honey, I'm so sorry,' he told her. 'If I could change the whole day, I would.'

Michelle sighed and gave him a guilty look. 'I'm sorry too, Tony. That last time it really was my fault. She said something about Danny in tech one, and I just couldn't let it go.' She ran her hands through his hair, soothing the ache. 'Are you still mad at me?'

'No, sweetheart,' he said, shocked. 'I wouldn't have allowed anyone to insult my brothers either.'

'Yes, but I just heard Hammond having a go at you all day, and you took it,' Michelle told him, hugging him. 'I don't know how you done it.'

Tony grinned at her, feeling his headache leave with his depression. 'He insulted _me_, sweetheart, not my family. I can take that.' He rolled on his side to face her. 'Honey, I can take Hammond's insults, he's a pain in the neck, but I can't take being ignored by my best friend.'

Michelle sat up, pulling him to her, giving him a kiss. 'Friends?' she asked.

'Friends' he agreed, returning her kiss.

* * *

He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he remembered his relief at being forgiven. He fell asleep in her arms, resolving never to quarrel with her again. He had managed to avoid any further serious arguments until that last day, always apologizing well in advance, whether he felt himself to blame or not.

He needed five minutes with her after the hearing, to hear how she felt about his actions now that she had a little time to consider them all. She would have a lot to say to him, he was certain.

He curled up, seeking the warmth from the blanket. He would be at home now, sleeping beside Michelle, waking her up in the morning with a kiss, or being woken by her. She would put her face close to his, ticking him with her hair as she bent down to kiss him awake. 'Hey sleepy, aren't you coming to work today?' she would tease.

'No, I'm not' he whispered aloud. 'They don't want me there anymore.'


	45. Chapter Forty Five

Tony gazed into the boot in silence, rubbing his face. Moving anything was highly inadvisable and anyway, he couldn't find the tent. Michelle joined him, shaking her head. 'Did I bring too many things?' she asked, slipping her arm round him.

He grinned at her. 'Yeah, honey. You brought enough for us to move out here permanently. Its ok, I'll unpack later. Let's pick a spot for the tent.' He took her hand and they set off, wandering through the forest. It had rained recently and water still dripped from the branches far above them. He breathed in the scent of thousands of pine trees and shut his eyes for a second, listening to the birds and insects. This was going to be his best camping trip ever, with Michelle.

'Let's look near the river' she said, and he nodded. They followed a trail that led down to a fast flowing river, watching the cold grey water race past them. 'Right here,' Michelle told him, pointing to piece of level ground. 'It's got a great grassy patch in the sunshine. What do you think, Tony?'

'Honey, you know I think anyplace where I can see you is fine,' he told her cheerfully. 'If you're sure you like it here, I'll go and get some stuff from the car.'

Michelle nodded and settled on the grass, enjoying the view, tired from the two day drive, while Tony climbed up the trail and returned loaded down with two tents, a cool box full of food and a fold out table. He laid them all in a pile and lay down next to Michelle. 'Hill's pretty steep,' he panted. 'I'm out of condition.'

'You'll get back into condition,' she teased him cheerfully. 'Tomorrow I'll wake you at five so you can go for a long jog until nine, after which you can make my breakfast! How's that sound?'

'Like I'll find someplace else to pitch my tent,' Tony replied, lazily. He yawned. 'That was a real long drive. My legs are stiff. I'll set the tents up now, sweetheart. Which one should we use for ourselves, and which should we put our stuff in? There's still lots of things in the car.'

'Let's use the bigger one for ourselves,' she said. 'It doesn't really matter if our things are squashed.' She pulled him towards her, kissing him. Tony gently pushed her to the ground, kissing her neck and working his way lower. 'Tony,' she told him. 'Stop. Open the tents, it's getting dark. We'll continue inside.'

'Ow,' he complained, noticing that she was right. The sun was setting, hastened by a dark cloud that threatened rain. He set the tents up rapidly and went for another trip to the car to bring more food and drink and their chairs. 'That's about it, Michelle, apart from the gas cooker, the dozen books you brought and the lantern. I'll go get them now.'

Michelle unrolled the sleeping bags while he climbed the slope again. He felt completely happy. It was his first holiday with her. They had spent two days talking and laughing in the car, stopping to see some interesting sights on the way. The two days of misery he had spent seemed far away. The only good thing that had come of it was his idea of taking a break away from it all, just the two of them.

He remembered his last camping trip, watching Michelle to make sure she was ok. He had longed to sit round a campfire with her and eat dinner together, cuddling up afterwards. Tonight he would get to do all that, and more! He collected the last armful of things from the boot and walked down the slope, arriving in darkness.

'Hi Tony. I set our beds up,' Michelle said. 'Let's eat.'

'Good idea,' he said, opening the cool box. Now where was the dinner he had planned for that evening? He searched the box carefully, putting a saucepan of water to boil on the gas cooker. 'We're having spaghetti with some sauce,' he said, pulling out a small plastic box. 'Found the sauce. Shouldn't take much longer. Why don't you make a campfire, Michelle, we can eat next to it.'

Michelle stared at him startled, before noticing his sparkling eyes. 'Tony! It's your job! I'm going to watch.'

He pulled a face at her, going to collect an armful of sticks. Soon a fire burned between the tents. Michelle sat on a chair admiring it, while he added the sauce to the spaghetti, admiring her. She looked gorgeous in firelight, flickering shadows playing across her face. Tony stood up and joined her, kissing her passionately before hurrying back to stir the food. He put two plates and cups on the table and handed out the food. 'That enough honey?'

'Sure,' she said, smiling at him. 'Tony, its great fun camping with you. Can we sit outside a bit and watch the fire after dinner?'

He nodded; pleased she was impressed with his work.

'And you can tell me about your grandmother, the one from Chicago who's visiting your mom next month. How come you're all so nervous about her coming? She's just an old lady!'

Tony laughed wryly. 'Honey, she's not just "an old lady." She's tougher than the pair of us together. Why do you ask?'

'Well, I don't sense your mom being happy about her visit,' Michelle said slowly, enjoying the dinner. 'She seems edgy, always hurrying home to clean a spotless house. It's like, I don't know really.' She shrugged.

Tony pushed his plate aside, settling down on the picnic blanket beside the fire. 'Sweetheart, all my grandparents were real gentle and quiet, except for my mother's mother. She likes to have everything in order, everything neat, everyone organized, and all by her! She used to turn up to visit us real often when we lived in Chicago, and mom used to panic at the sight of her.'

'Why?' Michelle asked, intrigued. She settled next to him on the rug, shivering a little. Tony got up and brought out a sleeping bag, wrapping them both into it.

He grinned at the memory. 'Well, she always found our house terribly messy. She'd step inside and grab mom and tell her off. "Rita, look at the mess. I can't even walk in here! Do your children really need this many toys? Why won't you get them to tidy up?" And then she'd call us and we'd have to pack everything away and take it all upstairs, after which she'd tour the bedrooms and make us pack stuff away there too. She always found something to grumble about to poor mom. Either the kitchen had unwashed dishes, or there were cobwebs out in the verandah! I used to follow her round to listen to her scolding mom!'

They laughed together, Tony holding her in his arms. 'How could anyone complain about a messy house if so many kids lived there,' she asked. 'Didn't she help your mom?'

Tony frowned in concentration. 'I think she did, honey, only I don't think my mom really appreciated that help. She always got us to tidy our things within minutes of her arrival, and then she'd vacuum out, but she kept noticing things like why did the baby have strawberry jam on his t-shirt. And when she stayed to lunch she always filled our plates and couldn't care less what we liked and what we didn't. We all had to eat everything, or else!

'Let's be fair, she did baby-sit occasionally, but we always dreaded it. I remember once she came when I was about eight years old. We all had dinner, and we kept trying to shift plates round to get rid of some broccoli she made us. She smacked everyone of us, even the little girls. Then she decided to vacuum out, and I didn't pack my Legos away quickly enough, so she put them in a plastic bag, put the remains of the dinner over it, and put it into the bin in the kitchen!'

Michelle burst out laughing. 'She sounds like a real character. What happened next? You went to get them back, right?'

Tony pulled her closer to him, enjoying the scent of her shampoo. 'Sure I did. She was cleaning upstairs, and I took the bag out of the bin and started poking round in the junk to pull pieces out when she walked in. I got a huge smack and was sent upstairs, and she took the entire bag to the bin outside. As luck would have it, it was Wednesday night, and the dustmen always came on Thursday morning, so Papa already put it on the street. I had to wait till late when she'd gone home and my parents were asleep before I could get the torch from the kitchen and slip outside. And she'd cleaned the cupboards of all "unhealthy food", so it was real hard to find the right bag. I had to take almost the whole bin out, and then mom heard me and came, and we hunted through the whole thing together, me in my pajamas and she in her dressing gown. We found it in the end, and mom filled the bath and we threw all the Lego inside there, and she said we'd clean them tomorrow, and then I had to have a shower and get changed.'

Michelle laughed till her sides ached. 'You had such fun all your life, Tony! My family was so boring compared to that! It's surprising she still flies over to LA though, at her age.'

'Sweetheart, she's only eighty. She's tough; she's buried all her friends. And she loves to come to LA, there's a few thousand old Spanish ladies she hasn't managed to quarrel with there. She's argued with all of them in Chicago decades ago.'

'How do you know?' she asked, laying her head against his chest. Tony stroked her hair, watching the flames.

'Well, look, don't tell mom, will you?' Michelle glanced at him and shook her head. 'My parents won a trip for a few days when I was twelve, and she came to baby-sit. We were playing hide and seek and Janey found an exercise book in her bag. We three read it in the kitchen that night. Honey, it was hilarious! All her friends were listed in it, and she wrote a comment about each of them, and what they done to offend her! The whole book was full. It took us two nights to read through it. Janey read it out, in grandmother's voice, and we laughed till we were nearly sick.'

Michelle laughed in delight, placing a hand over her mouth. 'I wish you'd kept it.'

'We would've loved to, except that she caught us the second night, and she was real mad. She took out the biggest wooden spoon in the kitchen and beat us all, starting with me. That's why we're a little weary of her visits. But she'll like you.'

A few drops of rain fell on them. They got up, and Tony folded up the picnic blanket, placing it back in the tent with the rest of their things. He went to wash the dishes in a bucket quickly, then unzipped the tent and crawled inside. Michelle lay wrapped up in her sleeping bag, reading in the light of the lantern. He watched her, removing his wet clothes. 'God, she's beautiful,' he thought, rubbing his hair dry. A gust of wind pushed the tent, and rain began to pour down, deafening them. Michelle looked at him a little worried.

'Is it okay to be here, Tony?'

He grinned cheerfully. 'Sure, honey, it's only a bit of rain. It's cozy, don't you think?' Slowly he took the book from her hand and switched off the lantern. 'There's all kinds of things we can do while we're stuck inside.'

'What did you have in mind?' Michelle asked him amused.

He grinned, trying to climb into her sleeping bag. 'Won't work this way, honey. Wait a sec.' He unzipped them both and laid them on the ground, cuddling up to Michelle and using the second as a blanket. 'That's much better this way, don't you think?'

'I like the idea, but we could use a few extra blankets. It's getting cold,' Michelle told him.

Tony rolled his eyes. 'You'd send me out in the rain?' he asked, pulling on his coat. 'I'll be right back.' He raced over to the second tent, running back with three blankets. 'I'm soaked. You'll have to warm me up, sweetheart.'

'I'll try,' she teased in the darkness. They laid the two sleeping bags on the ground and cuddled under the three blankets. 'That's a lot better. Where is your face? I can't see anything.'

Tony felt for her gently, pulling her towards him. 'I can feel you. Here's your nose, your mouth,' he placed his lips on hers, feeling her arm curl round his neck, pulling him closer. An extra large gust of wind shook the tent, howling all round them. The rain increased, until they could no longer hear each other. He felt her heart beating rapidly, felt her jump when the first lightening tore the sky in two. The ground shook, not having a chance to settle before the next flash blinded them. Tony grinned at her, seeing her white face in the bright flashes. She didn't seem to be enjoying the trip anymore. He drew her towards him firmly, pulling the blankets over their heads, hearing her groan. Their passion equaled the intensity of the storm outside, leaving them gasping in each others arms long after the storm had passed.

Michelle slept in his arms the rest of the night, her head on his chest. He longed to kiss her, but feared waking her.

Tony woke first, gently laying her head on the blankets and crawling to the opening. He pulled on his t-shirt and jeans and stepped outside. The sky was still grey and the ground was soaked and muddy. The river seemed faster than before, roaring past him carrying the debris of last night's storm, branches and even an entire tree rushed down in front of him. He lit the gas and made breakfast, carrying in Michelle's coffee and cereal.

'Good morning, sweetheart,' he greeted, kissing her awake. 'I got us breakfast.'

Michelle sat up, rubbing her eyes. 'It's cold outside,' she observed.

'Yeah,' he agreed, handing her the coffee. 'Drink this, it'll warm you up. We're going on our four hour hike, remember?' He chewed his lip, forcing his face to remain expressionless.

Michelle stared at him in dismay. 'We?' she echoed. 'Not we, Tony, you!'

'Honey, if I'm a little out of condition, so are you. We could have fun together, climbing the hills, running, walking. Eat up.'

Michelle rubbed her eyes, deep in thought. Her face expressed reluctance to leave the warm blankets. She pulled the flap open, closing it again in a hurry. 'Tony, it's all grey outside. It looks as though it could rain any minute.'

He nodded, fighting to contain his amusement. 'It will. We'll wear our coats. You can try out your new boots. Come on, Michelle. It's almost 6:30!'

A groan was his only answer. Michelle appeared to be absorbed in something on the floor of the tent.

The first drops of rain hit the tent, pattering down the roof. 'There's a lake on the way, about two hours walk,' Tony continued, ignoring the raindrops and handing the map to Michelle. 'We could take a dip, if we're hot!'

Michelle's eyes opened wider. She placed her cup and plate on the floor and slid under the blankets wordless, hanging onto them firmly.

Tony burst out laughing, unable to contain himself any longer. 'Where did you get to, baby? The sun's kind of been up for an hour already. We shouldn't waste the morning.' He pulled the blankets off her, struggling with her, watching her laugh. 'By now they would've sounded the bugle ages ago.' He cupped his hands together and imitated a bugle's call.

'You're nuts, Tony, dangerously mad,' Michelle exclaimed, grabbing the blankets again. 'I'll have to restrain you! You're suffering from battle fatigue. It's raining outside, do you hear? We're going nowhere! Give me your hands.' She grabbed them, pulling him down beside her, wrapping the blankets round them both.

'So what are we going to do all day?' he inquired with a cheeky grin.

'I'll make it worth your while to stick around,' Michelle promised, pulling him closer to her.

He grinned at her, completely happy.

* * *

Tony was forced to swallow hard several times as he remembered the fun they had that day in the tent, the stories they shared, the games they played, and the time they spent wrapped in each others arms. He had learned a lot about Danny, hearing about a time when he had been just a normal older brother. By the end of the day he felt as though he knew a great deal more about her. He'd even found himself hoping the next day might be rainy as well.

The bars represented a physical barrier preventing him from returning to his former life. Beyond them the world continued its own way, unaware of him. Despite her depression, Michelle was forced to stay outside in it, forced to find her way through it alone. He would remain on the other side of the bars, locked away by himself from everything he cared about. His only contact with the outside world would be from news his visitors would share with him.

His punishment would consist of having his time wasted. Wasting the remaining years of his life. Time, the one thing no one in the world had much of. The one thing that was truly irreplaceable. The government would make him pay for his failure by removing all purpose in the time he had left.

_Thanks for the reviews, they're the first things I check each day - the reason my husband gets to work late every morning_!


	46. Chapter Forty Six

Michelle sniffed the green stalk he handed her dubiously. She glanced at Tony, who nodded. 'Try it, honey. It's perfectly edible, and it grows practically all over the states. It can keep you alive if you're stranded somewhere.'

'Smells bitter,' she complained, taking a small bite. 'Uurh, it tastes awful.' She pulled a face, handing the plant back to him.

Tony took a bite, nodding seriously. 'Yeah, it's bitter alright, but it's real healthy. Come on, sweetheart, I didn't say I'd show you the nice plants out here; I said I'd show you the edible ones. There's other stuff that tastes better, but it's harder to find.'

Michelle took his arm. 'Forget it, Tony. I've had enough. Let's go back to the tent and get some lunch! I'm hungry!'

Tony handed the green stalk back to her, fighting to keep his face serious. 'Chew it on the way. It'll take about an hour till we get back to the tents.'

Michelle hit his arm with the long stalk, frowning at him. He burst out laughing. 'Ow, Michelle. I'm doing my best to find you some lunch, and you're beating me up! Keep on like this and I won't share my Milky Way with you.'

She looked interested for the first time. 'Milky Way, did you say? You've got one? And you didn't tell me!' She flicked the stalk against his arm harder. 'Where is it?'

Tony shook his head. 'I warned you, honey, about fighting. I'll just have to eat it by myself.' He withdrew a large Milky Way from his backpack. 'Unless of course you can take it from me.' His eyes sparkled with fun as he took a few steps from her. Michelle shook her head, grinning.

'Wait and see, Tony.' She ran after him, inches behind. Tony ran faster, highly amused, holding the chocolate in his hand. Panting hard she reached him, grabbing his sleeve, pulling the chocolate from his hand.

He watched her unwrap it. 'Give me a bite, sweetheart?'

Michelle considered it, watching him amused. 'What, after you made me chase you through half the forest? You can have this healthy thing instead!' She handed him back the stalk.

Tony leaned against a tree and rolled his eyes at her. 'Thanks. Lucky I brought two Milky Ways!' They chewed in peace, listening to the hidden birds. 'Are we ready to go back for lunch now?' he questioned. She nodded and they set off a different way. 'Do you think you could find your way back without a compass?' he asked her.

Michelle threw him a scornful look. 'Of course! I have received some training, you know.'

'Ok, lead the way,' Tony told her, wandering whether they would end up at the tents or not. He watched her look around and set off confidently in the right direction, impressed. He wouldn't need to worry about her getting lost in a forest.

They shared a cold lunch which he made them while Michelle tidied up their things, shaking out their sleeping bags and blankets and folding everything away neatly. She swept the little dirt out of the tent and replaced their bed. 'Are you done yet, honey?'

'Almost,' he answered, grating the last piece of carrot. 'Now then, come and see. What do you think of my picnic?'

He watched her walk to the table and stop, staring in amazement. She turned to him, an incredulous expression on her face. 'How did you do that? Look at that salad! This is as good as a healthy lunch back home!'

Tony pulled an offended expression onto his face. '_Only_ as good as a lunch you can buy at home? Honey, it's a lot better. Five different vegetables in the salad, and no fatty stuff.'

'Ok,' she laughed, sitting at the table. 'You're wasting your talents at work, Tony!'

He shook his head, sitting beside her. 'No, sweetheart, I make lunch only for us.' He put a pile of salad onto her plate. 'Eat it. I thought we'd do another exercise this afternoon.'

'What kind of exercise?' she asked intrigued. 'I've never had this much fun camping before, Tony.'

He grinned at her thrilled knowing he hadn't either. 'Well, so far I've trained you to recognize edible plants, and I've observed your orientation skills. It's time for your final lesson, lying low!'

She gazed at him wordless.

'I'm going to give you an hour to get started, and I'll track you in the forest,' he told her.

Michelle smiled, enjoying the idea of being hunted. 'I thought you'd cook us a real dinner tonight, Tony.'

'Oh, I will. Let's see, it's 1:00 now, I'll start tracking you at 2:00, and we'll be back by 3:30. Plenty of time to make dinner.'

Michelle glared at him. 'You really think you'll find me in an hour!'

Tony grinned, enjoying her annoyance. 'Sure,' he agreed. 'I've been trained to follow targets. If you can last an hour, Michelle, you can take me to the shops and pick something out, and I'll buy it immediately.' His eyes sparkled as he watched her growing irritation.

'You'd better prepare yourself for a shopping trip,' she warned, finishing her lunch rapidly. 'And how do I know you won't cheat?'

Tony got up, looking shocked. 'Honey, marines don't cheat. They don't need to. I'll read a book for an hour, then come and find you. After that I'll make dinner, and then….' His voice trailed off and he glanced mischievously at her. She grinned back, hugging him. He pressed her against him tightly, kissing her.

'I think I'll look forward to the "and then" part' she told him, getting up. 'I'll go now, Tony. No peeping!'

Tony nodded and finished his lunch, enjoying the thought of tracking Michelle. It would be a great deal more pleasant than tracking his partners on field exercises in the army, he thought. He washed the dishes in a bucket and settled down with a book, enjoying the weak sunshine on his face. The river roared by a few feet from him carrying an occasional branch from the storm. His hour passed remarkably soon.

Tony replaced the book in the tent, zipped it up and set off up the slope, the way she had gone. He followed the path, noting fresh boot prints. He watched the sides of the path carefully, knowing she would leave it soon and hike through the trees. He walked a little further without seeing any more prints and paused, frowning. By rights he should have seen several prints in that muddy patch, yet he hadn't. He retraced his steps, noting a large puddle at the edge of the path. Carefully he climbed the slope above it, pleased to see more boot prints.

'Top marks, Michelle. You left the track in the puddle, so I wouldn't see any prints. Now which way did you go?'

He climbed the hill carefully, looking round at the top. The lake lay to his left, intersected by dozens of smaller paths. He made his way down to them, searching them. Ah, yes, her boot prints were embedded in one small corner of a path that circled the lake. He set off again, noting the sun had disappeared behind a cloud. The wind turned chilly. He zipped his coat and hoped it wouldn't rain. He would need to find her fast, or she would have a lot to say to him. He'd never live it down!

It began to rain as he circled the lake, dripping steadily down on him. Tony pulled on his hood, hating the cold drizzle. He redoubled his efforts at locating Michelle. Her tracks seemed to stop beside the lake, she had admired the view, he imagined. He gazed at the grey lake, which lost a lot of its appeal in the rain. No matter how hard he searched, he failed to find any further prints. He frowned, puzzled. In the summer he would assume she'd swum a little way, but in this weather the idea was too ludicrous to be taken seriously. Narrowing his eyes he searched the shores of the lake, wandering whether she had hidden in some reeds. A small row boat caught his attention, a mile further along the bank.

His eyes lit up. She might have taken the boat and rowed it a little distance along the shore, hoping to shake him. He set off rapidly along the bank, examining the boat carefully. Yes, there was indeed a print next to it, she had come that way. Pleased with himself he set off again, following her tracks back onto the path, back towards the…. He paused, rubbing his face, shaking his head, half amused half irritated. Michelle was heading back to the tent – if he didn't hurry she would make it back before him, and tease him about it for the rest of his life. He set off at a steady jog, determined to beat her back.

Ten minutes later he noticed her hurrying down the path, hood covering her hair. His eyes lit up. He climbed off the track and moved deeper among the trees, hurrying as fast as he could. The ground was slippery under his feet, and he found himself sliding along pine cones and mud. 'Come on, Almeida, you've _got_ to beat her back to the tent!' he told himself, willing himself to move faster.

He overtook her, rushing silently through the trees, risking a glance back to see her just minutes behind, also hurrying towards the tents, eager to get out of the rain. His foot stepped onto a pile of rotting branches he had failed to notice and he fell heavily, landing in a heap of leaves and branches, throwing up a hand at the last moment to protect his face. He lay there dazed for a couple of seconds, fighting to regain his breath before picking himself up and extricating his foot. He examined it carefully. It hurt when he stepped on it, indicating a twisted knee, but not enough to prevent him from making it back to the tent. 'If I hobble' he thought gloomily. Michelle would certainly beat him back. He would need to make his way back to the path now as hobbling was out of the question on the slope. Moving carefully he felt his way down, sliding to the path and setting off slowly. He rounded a bend between two large trees and stopped short.

'Tony,' Michelle said, running towards him. 'I heard you fall. What happened to your leg?' She hurried to help him, putting his arm round her shoulder. 'Lean on me.'

He gave her a wry grin. 'Thanks, honey, I guess I wasn't prepared to lose,' he admitted.

She gave him a smile of triumph. 'I would've beaten you, Tony! You couldn't find me.'

He shook his head, red faced. 'Honey, no one would return to their starting point! It's illogical!'

Michelle shook her head. 'It's perfectly logical. It was raining, and the tent is the only shelter we've got. I'm surprised it took you so long to figure it out, Tony. Come on, I'll help you back. Does this mean I got to cook tonight?' She looked worried for the first time.

Tony laughed, despite his aching knee. 'No, sweetheart, I'll do it. I'll just sit inside the tent as it's raining too much.'

'When we get back to LA, you're coming shopping with me,' Michelle teased. 'You better take a whole day off, it could take awhile.' She threw him a huge grin.

'Honey, I'll give you my credit card,' he said, smiling back at her, enjoying her pleasure. 'You should've let her win, Almeida. See how happy she is! What were you thinking off, determined to beat her? Serves you right, twisting your knee!' He looked up, seeing her shaking her head at him. 'What?' he asked.

Michelle stopped, forcing him to stop in the middle of the path. 'Oh no you don't, Tony. You said " you can take me to the shops and pick something out and I'll buy it immediately." That means you're coming too!'

He rolled his eyes at her. 'Oh no! What did I get myself into?'

Michelle laughed at his expression. 'Sweetheart, we're going to have a great day. We'll go to all the clothes shops and I'll try on _everything_, and you can buy us lunch in town, and then I'll pick something.'

'Ok, I'll come' he agreed as they reached the tents. They entered and removed their wet coats and trousers. He examined his knee, noting it was already swelling. 'Dammit. Looks like I won't be going anywhere tomorrow.'

Michelle brought a wet towel and wrapped his knee in it, ordering him to keep still. He lay back, enjoying her attention. 'Stay there a bit, Tony. I'll get us some tea. It's freezing out there.'

They sipped their tea in silence, enjoying each other's company. 'You know Tony, this camping trip would be pure hell without someone you love,' she told him. 'Stuck inside so often, rained out, and that awful storm yesterday.'

Tony gave her a cheeky grin. 'I don't remember much of the storm, honey.' They giggled together. 'Ok, let me up now, sweetheart. I'll get dinner, and then we can switch off the lantern and cuddle up real close.'

He made sausages with baked potatoes and they ate the remainder of the salad, teasing each other about the camping trip. 'See what a great place it is though,' Tony teased. 'Hundreds of miles out of LA, lovely pine forest, fresh air, and above all, no reception for cells phones! Sometimes I'd like to live in a place without phones. Can you imagine the peace? You'd plan your day and it would go exactly that way, without any interruptions.'

'I don't think there is such a place,' Michelle told him, frowning thoughtfully. 'At least not in the States. Every building's full of phones, everyone gets hassled daily. Trust me, Tony, you'd feel weird without the ability to pick one up and call somewhere.'

'I guess you're right,' he agreed. 'Just put these plates in that bucket outside the tent, sweetheart, I'll wash them tomorrow when it stops raining.'

Michelle put everything in the bucket and returned to the tent. 'What makes you think it'll stop raining tomorrow, Tony?' she asked. 'Can you see anything beyond grey sky?'

He shook his head, glancing through the flap. 'No, but it's got to stop sometime, surely. I mean, how much more rain can there be left?' He lay on the blanket, resting his knee. 'Ow, this does hurt.'

Michelle bent over him, stroking his face. 'Did I ever tell you how cute you are when you're hurt, Tony? You're like a little kid, you can be fussed over.'

He made a face at her, secretly delighted. It would be pleasant getting fussed over tonight, and his leg did hurt a bit, after all. Anyway, he deserved all the attention he could get, if he had to spend a day next week shopping! They lay wrapped up in each others arms, listening to the ceaseless rain pouring round the tent. He felt totally content, lying in a cozy tent with the Michelle beside him, fussing over him. He just wished it could last forever.

* * *

"I'd like to live in a place without phones," he remembered saying it as clearly as if he'd said the words yesterday. How ironic! Of course the federal penitentiary did have phones, plenty of them, but he had no access to any. No one could bother him here, and he couldn't call anyone either. Not that he had had a single plan that day that could have been interrupted. Michelle had been right. It was hell, living without the ability to make a call when you wanted to.

Two guards patrolled the corridor, glancing in his cell. He watched them from the corner of his eye, pretending to be asleep. They appeared satisfied and passed by, walking further along the corridor. Tony turned over and settled down, unable to remember how they got back from the camping trip. He drifted into an exhausted sleep.

Loud clanging and swearing echoing down the corridor woke him. He lay listening to the string of obscenities before pushing himself up from his bed and walking silently over to the bars to peer outside. Six guards stood outside the cell nearest the steel door, attempting to push a man inside. 'I didn't do nothing. I didn't do stuff all. Why the hell aren't you people listening to me? If I see Les I'll break his bloody neck!' The cell door was opened and he moved inside, all six guards following him. A while later they emerged, locking the door. 'I'll kill the lot of you!' yelled the man, shaking the bars. The guards left the corridor, telling him to keep quiet. 'I'll make as much noise as I well please!' yelled the man. 'Go on, run away,' he called after the locked steel door. He turned to face the other way, meeting Tony's eyes. 'What the hell are you staring at?' he demanded belligerently.

Tony moved away, sickened by the sight. 'Oh God, don't tell me he's going to stay here all the rest of the night. Why the hell did they have to bring him here? It was so quiet before.' He drank a little water and returned to his bed, crawling beneath the blanket. The cursing echoed down the corridor ceaselessly, keeping him awake. As a final measure of desperation he pulled the blanket over his head, falling asleep within minutes.


	47. Chapter Forty Seven

_This is for twentyfourrocks and miesja - thanks for the idea!_

'Sweetheart, I made your coffee,' Michelle told him, shaking his arm gently. 'Wake up! It's Saturday, and we're going shopping!'

Tony rolled over lazily, perfectly aware what day it was and where he was expected to go. 'Shopping?' he questioned in an amazed tone. 'Honey, I bought enough food to fill the cupboards yesterday – we don't need anything.'

Michelle gave him a wicked smile, pulling his covers off one by one. 'We're going shopping for my prize, Tony, the one I won camping,' she said. 'I've got a few ideas, but I need to check them out. Come on, the shops will open soon.'

'Hmm,' Tony groaned, rolling over again, grabbing for the sheet. It was ripped off before he could grab it. He folded his arms on the pillow and laid his head on them, closing his eyes. 'Now what will she do?' he wandered cheerfully.

'Tony, come on,' Michelle insisted, attempting to pull him out by a leg. 'Get up. Your coffee will get cold.'

He buried his head deeper into the pillow to hide his grin. 'So she's appealing to the coffee lover – the ultimate threat, cold coffee'. He chewed his lip to keep his laughter back. 'Honey, it's in the machine, it will stay warm,' he answered lazily. 'The shops are open all day, there's no need to hurry.'

'Tony I will count to three,' Michelle said sternly, unconsciously imitating his mother when she spoke to her grandchildren. 'Well, I've heard that a few thousand times before,' he thought amused. "Tony I will count to three. If you don't stop jumping on that couch…get off the bed… quit swinging from that curtain…get your bag right now… come to the table…pack away your toys….stop arguing with Janey…come inside…start your homework…come downstairs….turn off the TV, I'll give you a smack!"

'One,' Michelle began.

He rolled over to face her. 'Or what?' he asked.

'Two,' said Michelle firmly. 'Or I'll spill the coffee and you'll get to drink tap water. Th…'

Tony climbed out of bed in a great hurry. 'Honey, stop,' he yelled, rushing after her to the kitchen. 'I'm up now.'

Michelle held the jar of coffee over the sink. 'You're just in time, Tony. Sit down.' He climbed onto the barstool and gazed at his plate while she poured them coffee.

'Is this it?' he asked. 'Just toast and jam?'

'We don't have time for much else,' Michelle said, 'and I didn't want you to start making a huge breakfast or we'd be here till lunch time. Hurry up.'

They ate quickly and Michelle washed the dishes, telling him to get dressed. Tony sighed heavily and went back to the bedroom, pulling on a white shirt with black jeans. 'Is this ok?' he asked, grabbing his jacket.

'Its fine,' Michelle said. She wore a green jumper with blue jeans. 'Now where's my coat? I left it here on the chair last night after the movies.'

'I hung it up,' Tony told her, handing it to her. 'You'd be in such trouble in the army honey, leaving your stuff lying around like that.'

'Lucky I got you to watch out for me then,' she said, pulling him towards the door. 'Come on Tony, step out.' She banged the door shut and they waited for the elevator hand in hand.

A cold wind met them outside as they hurried to Tony's car. He unlocked it and watched Michelle jump in. 'Boy she looks lovely in that green top,' he thought, walking round to the driver's side. 'She looks real happy too. You'll look like you're enjoying it also, Almeida! After all, she did win the bet, and you promised to take her shopping, and you'll get to see her in loads of lovely outfits.'

He followed her into the shopping's center's main mall, noting the crowds surging in every direction. 'People must be real bored, or they must have plenty of money,' he observed. 'Just look at all of them.'

Michelle slapped his arm playfully. 'Behave, Tony! They're here coz it's fun. What else would you do in the winter?' She stopped as he opened his mouth. 'No, don't answer. I know you're going to say they could go for a walk on the beach, but not everyone likes getting their hair and eyes full of sand blown at them a hundred miles an hour.'

'Honey, the sand doesn't blow at you if you're swimming,' he reminded her. Michelle shook her head, stopping suddenly.

'Here's the shop!' she cried and walked into a ladies boutique. Tony rolled his eyes and followed her in, glad she'd found the shop so quickly. 'It won't be so bad, Almeida! See, she's already found her shop and it's full of stuff. She'll pick something, and then we can go.'

'Tony, what do you think of this?' she asked, holding a skirt with grey and white squares in front of her.

Tony nodded. 'It's fine,' he said.

Michelle looked doubtful. 'Yes it is, but then this blue one is more practical, it would go with everything. What do you think of it?' She held up the blue skirt.

Tony nodded. 'It's real nice, too.'

'Tony! I need an honest opinion here! Which do you think is better,' she persisted.

Tony took them both from her hand. 'Let's buy both,' he suggested. An image of the beach came to him. He had plenty of time to have a good swim after all!

'Do you mean that? You're so sweet, but it wouldn't be fair. I won one prize, not two,' Michelle said, putting her arm around him.

'Honey, the other's a gift,' he said.

'Sweetheart, I'll take them, but do you mind if we go check one more place. They had lovely tops on Thursday.'

'Sure' he agreed. He could deal with another place. He bought both skirts for Michelle and carried the bags, following her down the mall. 'How far is it?'

'Quite a way,' she told him, walking with the confidence of one who was certain of her destination. 'We have to go up that escalator. Why are you grinning, honey?'

'You seem so familiar with this place,' he told her, highly amused.

The second shop had a large 'sale' sign hanging from the ceiling and seemed to attract every second female in the mall. Michelle fought her way through, dragging him behind her. Tony winced as someone trod on his foot with a high heeled shoe, and narrowly avoided being knocked over by an impatient fat woman with three children. 'Tony, where are you?' Michelle called excitedly. 'Look at these pale green angora jumpers. They're gorgeous.'

They did indeed look nice, he thought, as she held one up in front of her. 'Honey, you look lovely. Pick one.'

She turned to him a moment later distressed. 'They don't have any left in my size.'

'You could take a blue one,' he suggested.

'Yes, its good but the green would go well with the grey pants, whilst the blue would only match the black skirt,' she told him, glancing at him. He nodded as though he understood. 'Oh Tony, they're out of the blue too,' she groaned.

Tony pushed his way through to a mannequin dressed in an identical blue jumper that stood in the shop window. 'Is that your size, sweetheart?' he asked. She nodded. 'Ok, hold the bag,' he told her. 'I'm gonna undress that statue!'

Michelle gave a little gasp and handed him another jumper rapidly. 'Just dress her in this one afterwards real quick, ok!'

'Sure' he agreed, removing the jumper carefully and handing it to her. He pulled the larger size over its head, struggling to pull the mannequin's arms into it. An irritated shop assistant pushed her way through the crowd to him, taking the mannequin and dressing it.

'We don't encourage our customers to touch the displays' she told him struggling to sound polite.

'I'm sorry,' he apologized.

'Tony, will you look at these trousers,' Michelle exclaimed, pointing to a rack.

'They're gorgeous' he said, watching her sort through them.

'I can't leave it behind for this price,' she said. He shook his head, watching her excited face. 'She never looks like this at work!' he thought. 'She's so gorgeous!' Someone pushed a trolley over his sore foot and rushed off without apologizing. 'Ow,' he cried, moving it off. 'These ladies are like wild animals, Michelle.'

Michelle made no comment, busy pulling out three trousers in various colors. 'Tony, I'll go to the fitting room to try these on,' she told him. He nodded, glancing round the shop. Every item was being removed from the racks and pushed into overflowing trolleys. The one in front of him was piled high with jumpers in various colors. A sudden thought occurred to him. Bending forward he moved a few and looked at the size in the neck of the green angora. Glancing round guiltily he removed it, covering the spot with the rest of the jumpers. A moment later the woman returned and snatched her trolley, throwing at least six blouses into it. He jumped back when she set off in his direction, clutching the green angora in his arms. She joined the queue at the cash register and piled out her trolley, glancing through it puzzled. He heard her angry shout over the din. 'Some bitch has removed my green angora!' Carefully he lowered his hand and hid the green one behind the blue. The shop assistant gave him a nasty look which he returned with his most innocent expression.

'Tony!' Michelle cried, hurrying to him. 'These trousers are great but a size too small.' She returned them to the rack and sorted through the pile.

Tony pushed his way behind her and put an arm round her. 'Honey, look what I snatched from a trolley,' he whispered, showing her the green angora. Her eyes opened wide and she threw her arms round his neck.

'Tony, you're incredible,' she cried. He laid a finger to his lips, nodding.

'Yeah,' he said, kissing her neck. 'I get to choose a video tonight!' She nodded.

'Oh no. They don't have these grey pants in my size,' she said. 'Just the black and white ones.' She took them out and sighed. 'It's such a shame, the grey one would go well with my pink blouse - you remember the one I wore on Wednesday?'

Tony nodded, trying and failing to picture the one she mentioned. 'Look sweetheart, that other statue's wearing the same grey pants,' he said. 'I'll just check…'

Michelle clutched his arm. 'Don't Tony. That shop assistant is watching you.'

'Cover me for a sec,' he told her, pushing her in front of him and pulling the trousers out with his finger. 'Well you're lucky again, honey. She's gonna have to swap sizes. She's just decided this isn't her size after all.' He pulled the mannequin down to the ground and removed her trousers, struggling to pull them from her legs while Michelle stood in front of him, a hand over her mouth, her face red.

'Excuse me sir, I've spoken to you about touching the displays before,' snapped the irritated shop assistant, rounding a rack of trousers. 'I'm going to have to ask you to leave the store immediately.'

'Yeah,' Tony muttered, red faced, pulling the mannequin free and handing the trousers to Michelle. 'Take my wallet, sweetheart.' He handed her the clothes and walked outside, burying his face in his hands and laughing till the tears poured from his eyes. Michelle joined him a few minutes later, shaking her head and struggling with her own amusement.

'Tony Almeida, you got busted!' she gasped, laying down the bags and burying her face in his chest, shaking with laughter. 'The head of CTU thrown out of a store!' She laughed harder and he laughed with her, hugging her tight.

'Honey, you exaggerate,' he protested. 'I wasn't thrown out, I was asked to leave!'

They laughed harder, hurrying down the mall. 'Sweetheart, let's have a coffee,' he told her, pulling her into a café. 'Pick something to go with them, and I'll just sit down and watch the bags.' Soon they sat at a table drinking coffee and eating a cheese cake, laughing over the mannequin.

'Oh Tony, I'll never forget you crouching on the floor pulling those trousers off that poor mannequin,' Michelle told him between peals of laughter. 'I wouldn't have thought you capable of it.'

'Honey, it was just a big doll. You know how often I had to help my sisters take stuff off the dolls?' he asked. 'I got all kinds of talents you don't know about. You're gonna have to marry me and get to know them all!'

'I will,' she said, tracing his cheekbones with a finger. 'I love you so much. You spent a fortune on me today.'

'Sweetheart, I love to buy you stuff,' he said, noting her shining eyes. 'I just think it would be better if you'd go with some of your friends or my sisters next time. This place isn't really for me. They don't approve of my problem solving skills round here.' They dissolved into fresh peals of laughter.

'Tony! Michelle. Hi' Anna cried, hugging Tony from behind. 'What are you guys doing round here? Get me something, John, would you sweetheart.' A few minutes Michelle was relating their shopping adventures while Anna and John choked over their coffees, looking at Tony.

'I think we should leave you ladies to shop till you drop,' John said, getting up. 'There's a sports store I wanted to check out. Come with me, Tony?'

'Sure' he agreed, delighted to be given a chance to look at things that interested him. He followed John to the store and they admired a kayak on display. 'This one's even better than the ones they had at school. Remember?'

'Sure I do,' John said, grinning. 'Yep, this one's longer and I don't think it would tip as easily! What do you think, Tony? Should we go kayaking again?'

'Well, didn't Mr. Hooper say we'd never ever get to go kayaking again under any circumstance?' Tony asked, chewing his lip.

John nodded. 'He said something like that, yes. The man was seriously devoid of all humor. Just because we rammed each other a couple of times and ended up falling in didn't mean we deserved to spend the rest of the water sports classes sitting in the detention room writing lines! I think I'll buy a couple and we'll go sometime.'

'There you are,' Anna cried as they returned guiltily. 'We were wandering where you got to. Men! Like I told you Michelle, first you got to drag them to the shops, and they make all kinds of excuses and look miserable, then they end up staying far longer than you would.'

'What are you guys doing now?' John inquired as they walked out of the shopping center.

'Michelle has to go visit Danny for a bit, and I'm off to the beach,' Tony said firmly. 'And we're having dinner with mom and papa tonight. It's the last peaceful meal for ages; coz grandma's coming on Tuesday.'

'This Tuesday,' Anna gasped. She exchanged a meaningful look with Tony. 'So there'll be a real pleasant family dinner next weekend.'

'You better believe it,' he agreed soberly.

'Well, I guess it's better to get it over and done with,' Anna told him practical as always. 'You'll have to come and meet her John, and brush up on your Spanish. Buenos Dias might not be sufficient.'

John nodded. 'Ok, honey.'

Tony noticed Anna and Michelle glance puzzled at each other. 'What did you guys buy?' Michelle asked, a smile creeping across her face while they avoided her gaze. 'Come on, tell us. Tony?'

'Now honey, it's going to be left in John's garage,' Tony began guiltily.

'Don't stop,' Michelle told him. 'What exactly did you buy?'

'Just a kayak,' he admitted.

* * *

Tony stirred restlessly, unconsciously groping about for his pillow. His hand hit the iron headboard and he opened his eyes to the resulting pain, swearing aloud. His left hand throbbed sickeningly and he stumbled from the bed and turned the tap on before he was totally awake. Cold water ran down his fingers numbing the pain while he swayed from exhaustion. Damn place – how was he supposed to rest without a pillow? He loved to bury his head in one at home.

Slightly dizzy from lack of sleep he made his way back to bed, climbing in carefully to avoid placing any weight on his hands or letting his bandaged neck gain contact with the sheet. He pressed his eyes closed; remembering the hours of fun spent kayaking with John. Once Michelle joined his life it seemed every spare moment was filled with fun, or at least almost every moment. For a while she had allowed his grandmother to make her feel quite miserable and he had been too busy to notice.


	48. Chapter Forty Eight

Michelle stirred sleepily as he kissed her face. 'Good morning, sweetheart. I made breakfast a little early today, coz I've got to rush to the airport. Get up, your coffee's hot.'

She got out of bed, following him to the kitchen. 'Mmm, it smells good.' She climbed onto the barstool beside him. 'How come you're picking your grandmother up, Tony? I thought your mom would go?'

Tony grinned at her, admiring her uncombed hair. He found Michelle totally irresistible in the morning when she stumbled round the apartment half asleep. 'Control yourself, Almeida! You've got to get to the airport,' he ordered himself sternly.

'Sweetheart, she felt she just had to clean the bathroom again. She asked me to go instead. There's nothing much happening right now and Jack will be there, so I can take an hour.' He glanced longingly at the remaining coffee in the jar. Michelle followed his eyes.

'Don't even think of pouring yourself a second cup, Tony! You're just going to have to learn to put less water in that thing – less coffee too! Just tip it out.'

'Sure' he agreed, struggling to keep his face blank. One of these days she was going to wake up a little earlier than usual and catch him drinking his first cup, the one he always sipped alone before he started preparing breakfast. He got up, placing the dishes in the sink. 'I've got to get dressed now, honey.'

Michelle followed him into the shower, rubbing soap all over him. 'Do you know how cute you look all wet, Tony?' she teased. 'Your hair sticks flat on your head, and you look like a naughty kid.'

'No I don't' he protested, running his fingers through his hair. 'There, what do I remind you of now?' His eyes sparkled and grinned in anticipation.

'Like someone in urgent need of a haircut,' she teased, standing on tiptoe to pat his hair back in shape. She ran her hand along his chest, rubbing soap onto his hair. 'God you're irresistible.'

Tony turned the taps off and lifted her into his arms, depositing her on the bed. 'There's a limit to how much you can tease me, sweetheart,' he told her, parting her thighs.

'Tony, we're soaking wet. The bed's getting wet. You'll be late,' Michelle protested half heartedly, stroking his hair and pulling his face closer for a kiss.

'It'll dry' he managed to whisper back. 'And grandma can wait; give her something to complain about.'

They showered again half an hour later, dressing hurriedly. 'What are you doing with your day off?' Tony inquired, grabbing his briefcase.

Michelle shrugged. 'I was going to visit my friends, but one's got the flu and the other's got an interview.' She looked disappointed. 'I wish I could go with you to the airport. I'd love to meet your grandmother.'

Tony paused, regarding her quizzically. 'Honey, she can be a bit difficult at times, especially after a plane trip. She hates flying! She won't be in a good mood.'

They grinned mischievously at each other. 'Ok' he agreed with a sigh, 'you can come, but you can't move out, no matter what she does. I'm not responsible for her actions!'

'I'll never move out, Tony. Not after this morning and last night.'

He drove to the airport and parked the car, walking into the terminal hand in hand with Michelle. Quickly his eyes scanned the arrivals monitor, surprised to note the flight from Chicago was delayed another hour. 'Look at that. No matter what happens, grandma always manages to make people wait!'

'Tony, you're being unreasonable. How can you blame her for heavy fog?' Michelle questioned, sitting close beside him.

Tony sighed, slipping his arm round her. 'We could've taken a longer shower,' he whispered in her ear. Michelle blushed, looking round hurriedly to make certain no one in the nearby seats had overheard them.

An hour later the flight landed and the passengers came through. 'Honey, give me a few moments to greet her,' Tony asked, and she moved back a little, watching interestedly to try and see whether she could pick out his grandmother before he made a move.

Tony's eyes widened as he hurried to greet two people, an elderly woman and a man his own age. 'Buenos dias, abuela,' he greeted her, bending down for a kiss.

'Que tal, Antonio?' she asked, examining him from head to foot.

'I'm ok,' he replied, taking her bag. 'What made you come Juan?'

His cousin grinned at him, shaking his hand. 'I came to help abuela on the trip,' he said, his eyes sparkling. Tony eyed him mistrustfully. 'Tell me that's not your girlfriend, you lucky devil,' he said in a lower voice.

Tony turned and drew Michelle towards him. 'Honey, this is my grandmother, and my cousin Juan, the one who wouldn't share his gun.'

'Hi,' said Michelle shyly. 'Buenos dias,' she greeted the old woman, who regarded her coldly. Tony squeezed her hand, leading the way out of the airport.

Juan grinned at Michelle. 'I'll share everything in my bag this time, Tony. I don't want you to shoot at me again, especially as you know what you're doing now!'

Tony drove to his parents' house, helping them take their bags from the boot. 'Can you manage, Juan? I've got to get to work now,' he said.

'Nonsense, Antonio!' snapped his grandmother. 'You'll come inside and greet your parents properly! Right now,' she insisted, as he attempted to climb back into the car. He rolled his eyes at Michelle and got out of the car, waiting for her to climb out too. He took her hand as they walked inside.

'Sweetheart, this won't take long. I'm sorry she hasn't spoken to you yet. She will, in her own time. She can speak English you know, she just likes to pretend that she can't. She's waiting for you to speak Spanish.'

Michelle looked alarmed. 'Tony, I could only understand half of what she said to you. I can't really say anything in Spanish.' She looked worried. 'She won't be pleased to hear we're engaged.'

Tony stopped. 'Honey, it's none of her business! I love you, and my parents do too, and so do my sisters, and my brothers will too when you meet them. And look at Juan, he hasn't taken his eyes off you since you met, though he better real soon, or I might just go get Papa's gun.' They laughed together, walking into the house.

'Rita! It's nice to see I can finally step inside your home without falling over something,' Tony's grandmother said, greeting his mother. 'I'll go upstairs for a few minutes and then we'll have coffee and you'll let me know what you've all been doing.' She turned to Tony. 'You especially, Antonio!' She climbed the stairs, watched silently by everyone.

Tony's mother went into the kitchen to prepare the coffee and he pulled out his phone, asking Jack whether he could deal with CTU for another half hour. 'It's ok,' he said almost reluctantly to Michelle. 'We can stay.'

'She's quite a character,' Michelle said in a low voice. He nodded grimly.

'So Tony, you're still tracking terrorists?' remarked his cousin, sitting on the sofa. 'And Marco and Bobby are still playing sailors!'

'Hah,' Tony replied. 'And you're still trying to legitimize your clients' illegal dealings?'

'Yep.' Juan turned to Michelle who regarded him with a puzzled expression. 'I'm an accountant.'

They all grinned. 'You deal with crooks the same as I do,' Tony told him. 'My question is, what are you doing here now? Grandma doesn't need help flying over; she's perfectly capable of hassling the air hostesses by herself.'

'You can say that again,' Juan agreed. 'No, Tony, she's actually thinking of moving over here.'

'What?' Tony exclaimed, unable to formulate a better sentence. 'She can't. She lives with you guys.'

'That's just it,' Juan said, shaking his head. 'Papa's dead, Tony. We've been looking after grandma ourselves, and well…' he fell silent. 'Anyway, she's thinking of staying here as she's distressed about you guys. She tells us everyday how little control Aunt Rita has over all of you. Janey's divorced, Marco's marriage problems, you and Anna together with Anglos…' he bit his tongue, glancing apologetically at Michelle.

Tony's phone rang before he could make an angry retort. 'Tony, its Jack. We've got a situation – I need you back real soon.'

'I'm on my way Jack!' he answered. 'Honey, we've got to go. I'm real sorry, mom.'

They sat in silence on the drive to CTU, deep in their own thoughts. Tony was too busy absorbing the new development with his family to notice Michelle's unusual silence. He drove her home and gave her a quick kiss, telling her to have a nice day. CTU resembled a disturbed bee hive as he got in, hurrying to take control of tactical, listening rapidly to explanations of the latest crisis. He spent the rest of the day there, returning home well after midnight.

Michelle was fast asleep in bed by the time he returned. He kissed her cheek gently, ashamed of having forgotten to call her for a chat during the day. She woke him the next morning, holding his clock to his ear. 'It's been ringing for ages Tony. You must be worn out.'

'Yeah, a little,' he admitted. 'Honey I'll go make breakfast.' They ate rapidly, aware they were a little late, and drove to CTU discussing yesterday's crisis. 'There's lots of mopping up to do today, reports to hand in and I've got to deal with a Captain Ross of the LAPD, who might have a few things to say about Jack,' he told her.

They parted ways and he hurried to his office, dismayed to receive a call from Chappelle saying he would come and give them a hand that day. Experience taught him that Chappelle would cause so many delays over minor points it would take hours longer to finish everything. He was absorbed in a discussion with Captain Ross when he glimpsed Chappelle walk across the floor and climb the staircase. He hadn't come alone! Tony rubbed his face vigorously as he saw who had accompanied him. Promising to fill out the incident reports and send them over that morning he hung up the phone and set off in search of Michelle.

His phone rang forcing him to retrace his steps to his desk. 'CTU Almeida.'

'Tony, its Jack. Michelle's sitting near the coffee machine, she seems a bit miserable. You should go check.'

'Thanks Jack,' he said, hurrying downstairs. If Carrie had upset her again he would strangle her personally, he thought as he pushed open the kitchen door.

Michelle sat on chair, her head buried in her hands, oblivious to his presence. He crossed the room in two strides and took her in his arms. 'Honey, what's up? Did Carrie bother you again,' he questioned, hugging her tightly.

Michelle chewed her lip and shook her head. 'No. Carrie? I haven't seen her. Is she here?' Her voice sounded as though she was about to cry. Tony glanced at her worried, dismayed to notice wet eyes.

'Honey, what's wrong. Come on, tell me. I'll sort it out,' he begged. 'Did I do something?'

She shook her head, burying her face in his shirt.

Tony searched his memory for what could have happened in the last couple of days. 'Sweetheart, did my grandmother upset you?' he questioned, seeing a slight nod. 'But she didn't even speak to you!'

'That's just it,' Michelle told him, her voice muffled in his shirt. He strained to hear her words through her sobs. 'She won't talk to me coz she hates me, and she hates me coz she wanted you to marry some nice Spanish girl. And now she's going to move here and she'll make sure you don't marry me, and I'll have to go, and I'll miss you…'

Tony shook his head firmly. 'Honey, listen! First of all, she's _not_ moving here. Second, she doesn't like anyone her children or grandchildren married, not even my father, and he's Spanish. And third, I'll marry whom_ I_ please, and I love _you_!'

'Why wouldn't she like your father,' Michelle sobbed. 'He's what she would want…'

Tony ran his hands through her hair, tilting her chin to look deep into her eyes. 'Sweetheart, she never forgave him for making me.' Michelle looked momentarily startled. 'They met at college, they weren't married, and I was on the way. She wanted mom to get rid of me and forget about him, but they got married instead, and Papa worked all night so they could both finish college. So you see, my parents made their own life, and I'll make mine. And I don't want to spend it without you. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up every morning, and the last thing at night. _I love you_ _more than I could ever explain_. Come here!' He drew her closer to him, tilting her head a little higher, placing his lips over hers. She returned his kiss, opening her mouth to his probing tongue.

Tony thought he heard the door closing quietly but he wasn't certain, nor could he look around as he held Michelle in his arms. 'Do you feel better now, sweetheart?' he asked gently. She drew a long shaky breath and nodded. 'Good. Now honey, if you feel miserable you should tell me. I never guessed you'd feel this bad.' He stroked her hair gently for another moment. 'Honey, I got to get back to work. Captain Ross is still pissed off about the two police cars that got smashed when Jack brought his witness in. He's faxing me over dozens of forms I got to fill out.' He wiped her tears with his thumbs, smiling at her.

Michelle washed her face and took his hand. 'I guess I better work in tech one for a while,' she said, and he nodded.

He was working through the third form when Chappelle called, ordering him into the small room reserved for visiting officials from Division. Tony laid down the form with a sigh, hating the smug sound of his voice. He had been caught out somewhere, he just couldn't think where. As far as he knew both he and Jack had been up with all CTU's paperwork and logs. Groaning aloud he left his office, knowing there was only one thing he disliked more than paperwork – being ticked off by Chappelle!

Chappelle pointed to the chair in front of his desk without a word. Tony sat down, hating the feeling of being summoned for a lecture. He resisted the urge to speak, waiting in silence for Chappelle to begin.

'Almeida' Chappelle began, a smug look on his face, 'care to explain what's going on?'

Tony rubbed his face, wandering what on earth he was getting at. 'With what, sir?' he was forced to ask.

'Acting a fool won't let you get away with it,' Chappelle continued. He fixed Tony with a condescending expression.

'Mr. Chappelle,' Tony began, losing patience rapidly. 'I'm real busy right now, so if you've got something to say, I'd appreciate hearing it, but if not, I got a dozen things waiting for me.'

'A dozen things which you're neglecting while you dally with Ms Dessler in the rest room,' Chappelle observed. 'Carrie saw the two of you making out and kissing. I'm sure you're aware of CTU's rules against fraternization, Tony. Now I'll give you till the weekend to dismiss Ms Dessler, or I'll fire the pair of you! That's all. You can go finish your reports.'

Tony's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. He felt hot blood rushing though his veins, breathing deeply, preparing for combat. 'Mr. Chappelle, I'm going to tell you this once, and once only,' he hissed, 'so listen real well. I'm not dallying with Michelle, I'm engaged to her! I'm gonna marry her soon. There's no rule about who I can marry! She and I work better together than we ever did apart. She's the reason I spend so much time finishing up all the reports I send over to Division - without her I'd go home when the day ends. Our relationship isn't affecting our work at all, you can fire one of us the moment it does! Now I'm going back to get on with my _work_!' He got up, pushing his chair against Chappelle's desk in a fit of rage.

'Sit down Almeida. I didn't give you permission to leave,' Chappelle told him, pointing back to the chair.

Tony glared at him as he sat back down, fighting to calm himself enough to speak. 'Don't grab him by the shirt, Almeida. He'd fire you for that immediately. No, don't even _think_ about punching him on the nose, or you'll do it, and he'll have you thrown back into the holding room.' He met Chappelle's eyes, holding his gaze.

'I'm not interested how well you two work together, Almeida, I'm saying I won't tolerate it,' Chappelle said. 'It undermines CTU's discipline having a pair of agents having an affair, especially if it's the director. I thought you knew better. I'll expect her resignation on my desk by Friday.'

'You can expect anything you like, Mr. Chappelle - it won't happen,' hissed Tony. 'And I don't like being threatened! If you won't leave us alone I'll be forced to write to the President, and I don't think he'll be real impressed with your leadership. He might recall your role during his last crisis.'

Color flooded Chappelle's cheeks. 'Are you threatening me, Tony? You'd never get through to the president.'

'I would try,' Tony said, refusing to back down. 'And I'm not just threatening it, Ryan, I'm promising. Are we done here?'

Chappelle stood up behind his desk to face Tony. 'We'll give it a go. If either one of you steps out of line, you're fired!'

Tony nodded and left the office fuming. He poured water on his face and forced himself to take slow deep breaths before heading up to his office.

* * *

It was dark underneath the blanket and slightly quieter. It also had one tremendous psychological advantage – he was enclosed in his own small world which completely blocked out the bars. He found it easy to imagine himself back in his own bed on a cold night when he had often crawled beneath his blankets. Until that moment he hadn't realized just how oppressive the sight of the bars was.

Of course the guards patrolling the corridor wouldn't appreciate not seeing his head and hands, but he suspected they were going to find themselves occupied with his new neighbor. He moved restlessly hearing another sound, water dripping from his tap. He listened to it for a while, wandering whether he should bother trying to turn the tap tighter with his aching hands and eventually deciding against it. Let it drip, he wasn't paying for it! He would pretend it was water dripping off the rocks at his hidden beach.

God how he longed to go to the beach and see the ocean. Closing his eyes tightly he pictured the waves moving back and forth, splashing on the shore. Michelle's hair blew in the breeze as she stood in ankle deep water, watching him jump in the surf, her coat wrapped tightly about her. 'Come out now Tony, its freezing. Let's go home.' He groaned aloud, wrapping the blanket tighter about him. 'Stop thinking about the beach, Almeida, this instant. You'll drive yourself nuts. You won't think about the beach at all until they let you out. Go to sleep!'


	49. Chapter Forty Nine

A breaker with a curling white top knocked him over, pushing him against the seabed and filling his hair, eyes, nose and mouth with sand. Shaking his head he wiped his face, turning to wave encouragingly at Michelle. 'Where did that one come from?'

Michelle appeared to be a little cold on the shore, holding her arms in front of her chest, her coat zipped to her throat, her hood tied securely under her chin. A few strands of hair blew free to the side. She had rushed closer to the water when he had been spun round. 'Tony, watch out. There's another one!' she shouted over the din of the surf.

He turned in time, feeling his feet being sucked from the bottom, diving through the surging water. The wave continued to the shore, slamming itself against the beach. Michelle jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding getting soaked. He waved at her again and swam further out where he would be lifted high rather than tumbled. 'Work off your energy, Almeida. You'll never get through a dinner with grandma unless you're ready to drop!'

'Come out now Tony, its freezing. Let's go home,' she begged.

He attempted to tell her he would come in a few minutes but the surf drowned out his words. Michelle shook her head exasperated and he grinned at her, holding up five fingers. 'Give me another five minutes, sweetheart. I'm not frozen through yet,' he said, knowing she was unable to hear him. She looked a little annoyed as he turned and swam further out, taking a breath and going under the largest wave of the afternoon. How far could he ride it out, he wandered? Most likely all the way to the shore. He closed his eyes, enjoying the full force of the wave and the speed. A minute later he was deposited unceremoniously on the shore, grinning in excitement. 'That was _great,_ Almeida.' He attempted to get to his feet, hoping he could catch another wave when he felt hands on his back forcing him round.

'Tony! You scared me. Come on, we got to go now. We'll be late to dinner if we don't get dressed soon. Your grandmother will be annoyed.'

'Sweetheart, I'll come in a sec,' he said, slipping out of her grip and running into the water where he knew she wouldn't attempt to follow. 'My grandmother will be annoyed all evening anyway – she's probably annoyed right now.' He dived back into the breakers.

Michelle shook her head and settled on the beach towel, struggling to keep her hair under the hood. She turned her back to the wind, shivering slightly. Tony sighed and swam out, grabbing his towel. 'Brr, it's freezing out here,' he said, throwing it round his back. 'Let's go, sweetheart. I'll just have a quick shower.'

Despite his best attempts he was unable to scrub all the sand from his hair. He grabbed the soap and shampoo Michelle had packed for him embarrassed, knowing he would never have used them had the change room not been deserted, and tidied himself up, dressing in a t-shirt with a collar and blue jeans. 'How do I look now?' he questioned, glancing at Michelle.

'Your hair's wet,' she told him, pulling at his t-shirt to lower him so she could dry it. 'That's better. Oh dear, look at you!' She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed merrily. 'Your hair is sticking up all over the place. Did you bring a comb?'

Tony threw his bag in the car and glanced at himself in the mirror. His hair did indeed look unruly, resembling someone who had just woken up. 'Honey, I'm a guy. Is it likely I'd have that kind of thing on me,' he said regretfully.

'Well you're in luck then,' she said, opening her bag and handing him a pink hair brush. Tony shut the door rapidly before brushing his hair. 'I'll get you a comb, Tony, and I want you to keep it in the car right here,' she said, pointing to the glove box.

'Thanks honey,' he said, handing the brush back. It began raining as he drove to his parents' house and they sat in silence listening to the squeaking windscreen wiper. 'Sweetheart, you know what she's like now. We'll eat and then go, ok? Don't let her upset you too much, and don't worry, you won't be the only one she's gonna check out.'

Maria opened the door to them, hugging him. 'Hi Tony, you smell of shampoo and salt water!'

Tony hugged her back, nodding. 'You should get a job as a spy, Mari! Oh boy, has abuela seen you in that dress yet?' he questioned, seeing the brown mini skirt she wore over a tight jumper. 'It's hardly her style.'

'Look Tony, I don't own any clothes that she'd find suitable anyway, so I decided what the hell,' she told him bravely.

'You're in luck, Michelle,' he told her, leading her into the sitting room. 'With Maria dressed like that, grandma might even ignore you!' He noticed a subdued John standing by the window twirling an empty glass in his hand and went to join him. 'Hi, I see you've met my grandma!'

John grabbed his arm and drew him behind the couch. He nodded grimly. 'Apparently we wasted our time on the crusades and failed to help you guys against the Moors,' he said softly, looking slightly bewildered. 'I said sorry, but she didn't look real impressed.'

Tony attempted to cover his grin with a hand. 'It's ok, I'll overlook that!'

John nodded. 'Anyway, she looked a little cross, so I mentioned Sanchez winning the French Open, and she actually smiled at me!'

'John, you're wasting your talents! If she smiled at you, you should seriously consider entering the diplomatic service.'

'Tony, there you are,' Anna said, appearing with Rita and a small baby. 'Look who flew over to see grandma?' They hugged him tightly. He looked around and drew Michelle over to him.

'Honey, that's my sister Rita's husband over there, talking to papa. He's Portuguese, he's a professor of ancient history, and he's researching the Inca Empire right now. He speaks a dozen different languages, a couple of them used today! He's a nice guy, but he won't notice you unless you ask an intelligent question.' Seeing Michelle's alarmed expression he grinned encouragingly, handing her a small scrap of paper. 'Don't worry, I'm prepared! That's your question, and I've got a few here too. Let's go see if mom needs help.'

Tony's mother rushed around in the kitchen, accepting their help gladly. Michelle was given a stack of dishes to put on the table and Tony was handed a pile of vegetables to slice for a salad. They worked hard, Michelle telling Tony's mother about the trip to the beach.

'Tony, the bin's full. Would you empty it before mama comes in and notices?' asked his mother.

'Sure' he agreed, grabbing it. 'Mom, relax, this is _your house_,' he whispered, hugging her. Michelle opened the door for him and he rushed through the garden, emptying the bin and getting soaked in the process. 'Esta maldita lluvia!' he exclaimed irritated, rubbing his hair with a kitchen towel. Michelle grinned at him, paling suddenly as a figure entered the kitchen.

'Antonio! Comportarse!' snapped his grandmother.

'Buenas tardes, abuela,' he greeted her, echoed immediately by Michelle. His grandmother glanced through Michelle and walked out, grabbing Anna and Rita. Tony noticed Michelle chewing her lip with a thunderous expression.

'Honey, she only came in here to tell me off! Why don't you come with me?' he said suddenly, drawing her out of the kitchen and leading her into the dining room, closing the door silently behind him. He put his arms round her, stroking her hair. 'God I love you, sweetheart. Think you can handle a bit more?'

Michelle nodded, making no move to leave his arms. 'I always used to be welcome here,' she said softly. 'I used to be Michelle, Tony's friend, but now I'm just that woman no one wants…'

'Sweetheart, you know it's not true,' he said gently. 'Do you see anyone looking happy or relaxed tonight? We'll go right after dinner, I promise.' He gave her a kiss and she relaxed, kissing him back, both of them pulling apart as the door opened.

'I thought I'd warn you two we're about to come in for dinner,' Tony's father said gently, smiling at them. 'Now then, where would you like to sit, Michelle?'

Michelle glanced round the table. 'As far from…' She bit her lip hurriedly. Tony and his father exchanged knowing glances.

'You'll sit right here at this end next to me,' Tony's father said, 'and Tony will sit on the other side. I'll put Rita and the professor right across from you, so you'll be quite safe. We'll put grandma next your mother, Tony, she can cope with her.' They settled down before anyone else could take their self assigned places. The rest of the family entered, Anna sitting on the other side of Tony, asking when he would go kayaking with John. He was about to reply when a shadow fell across the table and he noticed his grandmother standing behind her. 'I want to sit next to Antonio, Anna,' she said. Anna threw him an apologetic glance and moved to the other side of John, and their grandmother settled in her place.

'Oh great,' Tony thought, squeezing Michelle's hand under the table. He reached for the salad, laying a little on her plate and putting some on his own. He handed the rest of the food out, leaving a dish of broccoli untouched. 'Sweetheart, you could ask the professor your question anytime,' he reminded her.

A movement caught his eye and he turned amazed to see his grandmother laying a pile of broccoli on his plate. 'Abuela' he protested.

'Come la cena,' she ordered him sternly, watching to see whether he dared argue. He gave her a long look and put a little of it in his mouth, forcing it down. She appeared satisfied, looking past him at Michelle. To his utter amazement she looked at Michelle for the first time, addressing her in English.

'What do you do?' she asked in a tone that would have been approved of in an interrogation room at CTU. 'You work with Antonio?'

Tony's father stared in amazement, the fork halfway to his mouth, Rita watched with large round eyes, and even the professor halted his monologue blinking uncertainly as if trying to fathom his whereabouts. Tony struggled to remember when he had last heard her speak English, unable to recall an occasion after he was eleven years old and she had walked into their living room finding a couple of his friends helping him turn the curtain into a wigwam. He turned red remembering her slapping him across the face before sending his friends home in no uncertain terms.

Michelle took a deep breath. 'Yes, I work directly under Tony,' she said pleasantly. 'I help him set up protocols and in his absence I run CTU.'

Tony shifted his gaze back to his grandmother, noting her mouth set in a thin line. 'Oh dear, she's just getting started. Think of something Almeida, quick.' She spoke before he could open his mouth.

'And how do you work full time and manage to cook, do the shopping, the laundry and keep the house clean?' she demanded, making it sound as though by going to work Michelle was somehow failing as a woman. 'Or are you one of these modern women who don't cook?'

'Michelle does all these things after work,' Tony began, quick to come to her defense.

'I don't see how!' remarked his grandmother. 'Your mother never managed to get herself organized even before she returned to part time work. Whenever I arrived the place was like a battlefield!'

'Grandma, you've never been anywhere _near_ a battlefield - you don't know what chaos means. Not that you ever should, hell, no one could cope with that!' he thought silently.

Tony saw his mother open her mouth and heard her attempt to speak but his grandmother didn't spare her a glance. 'So when do you find the time, Michelle?' she continued mercilessly. 'How can you cook and iron and clean at the same time? I suppose Antonio helps you.'

Michelle nodded wordless, fighting to keep a brave face. Tony squeezed her fingers under the table and turned to his grandmother.

'Abuela, we both work, and we both take care of the house.'

'I can see that,' continued his grandmother. 'If you marry her, Antonio, you will find yourself hurrying home every night to cook dinner, or clean out. That is a woman's job, not yours! You will not have time to go out and have fun. Find somebody else.'

Michelle got up in a great hurry, laying down her napkin and rushing from the room. 'Gracias, abuela,' Tony snapped, hurrying after her. 'Michelle, come back!' he called, racing through the open front door followed by his parents.

Michelle was already sitting in his car, starting it up. 'Honey, wait for me, I'll just get our coats,' he cried, knocking on the driver's window.

'No, Tony, you go back and enjoy your dinner. I'll never fit into such a family – hell, what would she say if she knew I can't even cook! That you don't just help out, you do it all! That's right, I can't cook,' she yelled to his startled parents, driving off rapidly.

Tony stamped a foot and let out a string of Spanish oaths, staring after the disappearing car. Heavy rain poured down, soaking them all to the skin. 'Tony, take my car and go after her,' said his father. 'Hurry, she'll be feeling bad.' He handed Tony his key, piling the two coats into his hands. Tony opened the car and placed them on the backseat, pulling on his seatbelt. 'Don't speed, you'll get there soon after her, and when she is a little happier, tell her,' his father glanced round furtively checking they were the only ones in the garden, 'I nearly ran away too, the first time I met her. I would have too, if you hadn't been on the way. "A penniless Mexican only halfway through a degree," that's how she referred to me. "A scum who pretended to fall in love with your mother and get her pregnant for a green card! A man who would pull her down to the gutter."'

'My God, papa, she told you that?' Tony cried horrified. 'How could you ever face mom again?'

His father shrugged, glancing at his son with an embarrassed look. 'I had a few drinks, then I decided I had to talk to her before I fled back home.' He squeezed Tony's shoulder. 'Go now, Tony.'

'Papa, I'm glad you stayed,' he said, unable to resist giving his father a hug before driving after Michelle. It was going to be a terrible evening, he had known all along it wouldn't be pleasant, but he hadn't dreamed it would be this bad. The rain poured down so heavily it reduced visibility to a few feet, making the windscreen wipers virtually ineffective. He drove as fast as he dared, parking his father's car in the visitors' spot and running to the lift. As usual when he was in a great hurry the lift was occupied. Tony raced for the stairs, unable to wait.

He found Michelle in the bedroom, placing the last of her dresses into a suitcase. He leaned against the door, sick at heart, unable to speak. Michelle opened his top drawer and removed her t-shirts and blouses, laying them on top of the dresses. She zipped the suitcase closed and looked at him. 'I'm sorry, Tony.'

'NO. You're not leaving, dammit! We didn't even fight about anything. I won't let you go.' He folded his arms and stood in front of the closed door fighting back tears, blocking the exit.

'Tony, I'm leaving, you can't stop me! I can't fit into your family. I really wanted to, you know, but I'm not the kind of person they want. You deserve a wife who'll have everything done when you get home, so you can go out and have fun.'

'Honey, we go out together,' he protested. 'I never went anywhere alone. Hell, you know that, Michelle, you teased me about it every Monday!'

'Tony, you're my best friend, you always will be. But I can't stay with you, you need someone completely different.'

'Michelle, everyone in my family loves you apart from my grandma. My parents…'

'They didn't even know I can't cook! They'll be glad to see the last of me now!'

'Dammit, Michelle. They don't care whether you can cook or not,' he snapped, raising his voice. 'They know we work together, we can discuss things together. They know you saved my life. We're a team, we share our jobs. We were going to share a life too.' He turned away, blinking rapidly.

'I'm sorry, Tony – I need a little space right now, I need to evaluate who I am and where I'm going. I'll see you at work on Monday.' He watched her carry the suitcase outside and heard his door bang.

He moved to the balcony in slow motion and gazed at the never ending stream of headlights moving on the freeway in the distance, drinking out of an open whiskey bottle.

'What can I say to you on Monday, my friend, to make you feel better? I understand you feel real bad now – you should let me hold you tight and comfort you. There's nothing you need to 'find' Michelle, you're perfect, you're everything I ever wanted and never dared hope I'd get. You got to come home.' Feeling dizzy he stumbled inside, not wishing to collapse on the balcony, and made his way to the bedroom where he sank onto the bed, unable to find the willpower to remove the covers. He lay on the blanket, groping for the chair near his side to pull the second blanket over him, the second blanket Michelle always tossed off the bed. He pulled it over him, surprised to find something soft under it. Switching on the bedside lamp he saw Michelle's green angora jumper folded neatly. He laid it under his head, breathing in the lingering scent of her perfume and allowed a few tears out. His apartment had never been so silent before.

* * *

Drip drip drip drip drip. Tony groaned, pulling the blanket over his ear to smother out the sound. It reminded him of the sound his tears made falling on her jumper as he lay awake missing her. His life had seemed about as empty then as it did now.

He heard approaching footsteps through the drops of water, moving to push the blanket a little lower. The guards peered into the cell and walked past up the corridor, returning moments later. They peeped in at him again while he lay with eyes almost totally shut, watching them through the narrowest slit. Once again they walked past in silence, their boots ringing in the corridor, over to the steel door and out through it, raising a tirade of abuse from the new prisoner. Tony pulled his blanket firmly back over his head and lay with his eyes open trying to make out the pattern of his hands under the covers. He would be utterly exhausted the next morning, that was certain.


	50. Chapter Fifty

Tony arrived at CTU five minutes early, hurrying wordless through the floor to Michelle's desk. It lay empty, the monitor dark, obviously untouched since she'd left her workstation on Friday afternoon. Disappointed he climbed the stairs to his office and laid his briefcase on the desk. He would keep an eye out for her from here, call her upstairs and apologize. Unconsciously he rubbed his head even though the worst hangover of his life had faded. He had woken with a hangover and had spent Sunday morning drinking steadily until he passed out in the living room, spending the afternoon lying on his bed in too much pain to move. He was exhausted and totally drained now.

Dully he pressed his computer on, checking for new messages. He opened the first one eagerly, reading it in dismay. Michelle wanted three days off as she was tired. She reminded him she still had plenty of days left from her holidays that year and hoped it wasn't too difficult if she could take them at such short notice. Swallowing his unshed tears he dialed her number, hearing her answer on the second ring.

'Sweetheart, I got your email. You can take the days if you want to, it's pretty quiet now. I miss you. Could you meet me for lunch or something?' He felt himself gripping his desk for support.

'Tony, I need a little more time to think. I'll see you on Thursday. Honey, please give me this space, ok?'

'Yeah,' he said miserably. 'It's too quiet without you, sweetheart. Take care, ok?'

'I will. You take care too, Tony.'

He hung up, hurting inside. She was staying with her friend Kathy, she was ok, and she was thinking about whether or not to break their engagement, and all she asked of him was space. 'She doesn't want to see you right now, Almeida! Dammit, dammit, you didn't even do anything this time!'

He spent the first hour unable to focus on a single task, giving up at last and getting himself a coffee. The kitchen was empty at that hour – the morning coffees had already been made and drunk by the coffee drinkers and they hadn't yet felt the urge for extra caffeine. Slowly he poured the boiling liquid into his mug, adding milk and sugar and sitting aimlessly at the table. 'Today you can have as many cups as you like, Almeida; she's not here to worry about your health.' Somehow he lacked the heart to take advantage of the break. He knew he would give a lot to hear her come into the kitchen and scold him for drinking yet another coffee. He missed her so much it hurt.

The next day passed with him in the same silent misery, and the one after that. He functioned on auto-pilot, unable to remember what he had achieved in the office once he returned home. On Tuesday he couldn't bear to face his apartment so he drove to his hidden beach immediately his shift was over and settled against his familiar rock, gazing at the ocean. He ate half his sandwich, sharing the rest with a flock of aggressive seagulls. Dawn found him curled in his cave wrapped in the beach towel he kept there. He spent a few hours gazing aimlessly at the water before he remembered they were expecting him back at CTU. 'Get a grip, Almeida. You're not much use, like this. She's coming back to work tomorrow.'

'Alright, Tony, want to tell me what's going on?' Jack inquired, gazing at him searchingly. He took the form that required both their signatures – signing it without giving it more than a cursory glance.

Tony pulled an impenetrable mask onto his face, glancing back at him. 'What do you mean?'

'Spit it out, Tony. You've been acting like a zombie for three days now, and Michelle is on holiday. Did the two of you have another argument?'

Tony shook his head. 'No we didn't, so let's get some work done, ok!'

Jack gave him a penetrating stare before leaving. He buried his head in his hands. His cell phone ringing brought him back to the present. 'Almeida.'

'Tony, it's me,' said his youngest sister's voice. Tony almost grinned, having given up ever teaching Maria to introduce herself by name.

'What's up?' he asked.

'Tony, listen, papa and mom and grandma are spending two days in Santa Barbara with Juan and some other relatives, and I just got home, and the place is burgled. Everything's broken…' Her voice trailed off.

Tony straightened abruptly. 'Sweetie, are you sure the place is clear?'

'Yes, it's just me.'

'Okay, I'll be right over. Did you call the police?'

'Yes, but they won't come till after lunch. I can't clean out until then.'

'Mari, I'll take care of it. Watch you don't cut yourself.' He picked up his phone, telling Jack he was going to be away for a couple of hours, after which he placed a call to a forensics expert. 'I want you to find some prints or DNA, Mike. These people are going to pay for this.'

He stepped in through a large hole in the glass sliding door, gazing around in dismay. Glass littered the floor, covering the overturned couches, cushions, pot plants and chairs. Books lay scattered in an untidy heap round the bookcases, together with a few broken ornaments. He picked up his father's favorite book and replaced it on the shelf, blowing glass particles off it. The kitchen was even worse: someone had opened the cupboards and swept out all the breakable cookery. He stepped over it and peered inside, noting only one plate escaped the destruction. The fridge door was open, several shelves hanging out. He closed it, moving into the passage.

'Hi, Tony,' Maria said softly, a dustpan in her hands. He knelt down beside her, staring at the pieces of broken vase. Slowly he took some larger pieces, opening the door and placing them in the bin, followed by Maria. 'Look Tony, there was a key,' she said, handing it to him. He nodded, unable to speak, pocketing it. 'What's mom going to say?' she asked, sweeping up more of the vase. He shook his head silently.

'Don't know.' He walked round the house, noting the absence of the videos, the CD players, and the DVD player. Upstairs his parents room was ransacked, things pulled out of drawers and off shelves. Hesitantly he pulled open a shelf he'd placed deep under their bed, relieved to find his mother's jewelry box had remained undiscovered. He sank onto his parents' bed, too weary with the past few days to move.

'Get up, Almeida, pull yourself together. There's a house to tidy, you can't leave it all to Maria.' Slowly he rose and fetched the vacuum cleaner, cleaning the glass away.

CTU's forensic expert knocked on the door and he switched off the vacuum cleaner and let him in. 'Hi Mike, come in. My sister,' he said as Maria appeared.

Mike glanced around, shaking his head. 'Your place?' he asked.

'My parents,' Tony said softly. 'Find something Mike, ok?'

He followed Maria to the kitchen, picking up the broken cups and plates and placing them in a plastic bag. 'When are they due home?'

'Today at 4:00,' she said, cleaning the cupboards with a cloth.

'Mari, call Anna and tell her they're gonna need a new dinner set and mugs and stuff,' he said. 'And a new video. We'll clean up by 4:00.'

By 2:00 he wandered how he could have been so naïve as to imagine they'd be ready in such a short time. The vacuuming alone took two hours as some stubborn shards remained embedded deep in the carpet, requiring him to pull them out by hand. Upstairs Maria folded the clothes, laying them back in their places and tidying up the bathrooms. Totally occupied with the carpet he missed the door opening, jumping startled at a hand laid gently on his back.

'Tony, I'm so sorry. Jack told me what happened,' the sweetest voice in the world told him and he turned rapidly, pulling her towards him.

'Sweetheart, you came!' He gazed at her, searching her eyes to read how she felt about him.

'I figured you could use another pair of hands,' Michelle said quietly, gazing around at the damage. 'God I hate thieves.'

He nodded soberly. 'Yeah. These guys picked the wrong house to burgle. I'll find them, and when I do…' His voice trailed off, a dangerous tone to his last words.

'What can I do to help?' Michelle asked, looking hesitantly at him.

'Come home with me,' he whispered, biting his tongue. 'Almeida, you don't know whether she wants to do that yet. You promised her a little space, remember? She wants to help here, and there's a dozen things that need doing.'

'Where's the big vase?' Michelle asked.

'It's smashed,' he said bitterly. 'Michelle,' he exclaimed, turning to her as a sudden thought crossed his mind. 'Take my card and go get another similar one, would you. It would mean a lot to them. You're better at that stuff than me.'

She nodded. 'How much should I spend?'

Tony shrugged. 'Whatever it costs. Use everything on the card.' They glanced at each other. 'Thanks, Michelle,' he said softly, and she nodded silently and left. He ran a hand along the side of his face, bending to hunt for further shards.

Maria appeared with an armful of bedding, piling it into the machine. 'Some of this was on the ground, I'll wash it,' she said and he nodded. 'Carpet looks a lot better, Tony.'

'The dangerous bits are still here,' he said, sighing heavily. 'Turn the light on for me, would you - my eyes are getting sore.' An hour later he decided the carpet was free of further glass and he turned the couch back the right way, grabbing the cushions. He paused, shaking his head. A long gash lay along the entire length, hacked through with a sharp knife. 'Why would people cause such damage?' he wandered bitterly. 'It was so old already, what joy could there be in wrecking it further?'

'Guess mom will have to get a new couch now,' he told Maria. 'It's about time anyway.' She nodded and he sighed. 'Sure it's time they got a new couch, Almeida, but they kinda liked this one. Oh God, whatever will they think when they get back?'

'Tony, come upstairs to your room, would you,' Maria told him and he went upstairs, picking up the pieces of model ships and planes that had been left on the table. 'Bastards broke all Marco's stuff.'

'Some of this can be fixed,' he answered, picking up more pieces. 'I'll do it tomorrow, Mari, I just haven't got the time now. Let's put the other stuff away.' They packed all the old toys back into the toy-box, Maria actually laughing as she held up a broken robot. 'Tony, where are you?' Michelle called. 'Come see the new vase.' They both hurried downstairs, staring in amazement.

'Sweetheart, you're amazing! It's exactly the same!' Tony cried. 'How did you do that?'

Michelle gave him a secretive smile. 'I'll tell you over dinner.'

'Dinner,' he echoed. His eyes lit up and he pulled her towards him, burying his face in her neck. Maria gave them a knowing smile and left them alone together. 'You'll have dinner with me?' he repeated. 'Sweetheart, there's nothing at home. I'll take you out somewhere.'

Michelle's hands ran through his hair. 'You look awfully tired, Tony. Let's have dinner at home tonight, we'll order a pizza or something. I just want to spend some quiet time together.'

A tear slid down his cheek, he rubbed it away rapidly hoping she hadn't noticed. 'I just got to wait for my parents, and…'

'It's ok Tony, I'll wait for them,' Maria said softly, appearing from the dining room. 'You guys go home.' She looked sympathetically at them, and gave him a push towards the door. 'Go on.'

Tony paused before he pushed the door to his apartment open, ashamed of the state he had left it in. Michelle pushed past him, stopping short at the sight of the dishes on the table, the clothes on the armchair, the empty bottles lying on the floor and his blanket thrown on the couch. He avoided her gaze, examining the floor.

'Guess I can't do it alone anymore,' he said, rubbing his face. 'I'll tidy up, sweetheart.'

Michelle laid a hand on his arm. 'No you won't. We'll do it together tomorrow. We're a team, right?' He nodded, watching her carefully. 'I missed you, Tony. I sat around all day thinking of you and I decided I really want you. I'll learn to cook,' she finished in a rush, going red.

Tony pulled her into his arms, laughing aloud. 'Honey, promise me you won't,' he begged. 'We got our own routine, it works fine. You clean out and I cook and we _both_ go out. Think of something special to do on Saturday, just the two of us.' He settled on the couch, pulling her onto his lap. 'We'll have some fun!'

They sat hugging each other for several minutes before Michelle got up, pulling him by the arm towards the bedroom. Once again he blushed, watching her pick up her jumper and lay it back on the chair, folding up the top blanket.

'You didn't even sleep under the covers, sweetheart,' she said gently, sitting on the bed.

'Honey, I wasn't in any condition to do so,' he admitted, producing an empty bottle from further down the bed. Michelle shook her head and placed it on the floor. Exhausted from the last three days he sank down beside her, laying his head on the pillow and taking her hand. Without meaning to he closed his eyes, forcing them open moments later. 'What on earth is she going to think of you, Almeida? Talk to her, don't go to sleep!'

'Sweetheart, you should have a rest,' Michelle told him gently, unbuttoning his shirt. She rolled him on his side and pulled his arms out, bending to kiss him. 'Tony, you smell of the beach,' she said amazed. 'Your work clothes never smell like that. Didn't you take a t-shirt?'

Stroking his hair her eyes met his, waiting for an answer. 'Sweetheart, I went straight there. I guess I slept in these things,' he told her, allowing her to pull his other arm free. 'I got to work real late; I don't honestly remember when I got in. A few more days and Tony Almeida would have been fired!'

'Looks like I got to stay and make sure that never happens,' she said pulling off his trousers. 'Sweetheart, don't go to sleep, you need a shower! You can have a rest afterwards.' She pulled him up by his hands. 'Come on, Tony.'

Reluctantly he got up, standing in the bathroom while she turned on the water and set it to the temperature he preferred. She gave him a push and he stepped in, feeling the heat spreading all over himself. 'Step out a minute, Tony,' she said, and he stood in front of her dripping wet, bending down to allow her to rub shampoo into his hair. 'There, rinse it off.' He stepped straight into the towel she held out for him, allowing her to rub him dry, feeling his eyes close again.

'Dammit Almeida, focus! You should be enjoying this, not going to sleep.' Something told him he _was _enjoying it, as he was handed fresh clothes and climbed into bed. Michelle pulled the blanket up to his chin, settling next to him as he drifted off. She woke him with a kiss a few hours later, cuddling against him.

'Your father called, sweetheart, to say thanks. They're ok, just a bit shocked, but guess what?' He smiled at her pleasure and shook his head, too tired to guess anything. 'Your grandmother said she's not going to stay in such a crime ridden city as this, she's catching the first flight back to Chicago tomorrow!'

* * *

Tony climbed out of bed, unable to listen to the tap any longer. Warily he made his way over to the basin, watching the drops falling from the faucet. He held his hands under them for a second, wetting them to numb the pain before taking the tap in both hands and twisting hard. Two last drops fell out while he waited; standing by the basin to make certain the tap was now off. A last drop gathered from the faucet, growing excruciatingly slowly until it fell into the basin. Satisfied he would have peace, Tony returned to his bed.

He rolled over attempting to find a comfortable spot, noting the crumpled state of the sheets in irritation. Once again he climbed out, straightening them. Now he would sleep, he wouldn't allow any further stray thoughts to distract him. He shut his eyes firmly, seeing Michelle kissing him. 'Goodnight, sweetheart,' he whispered, banishing the memory.

Drip drip drip. Tony sat up in a rage staring at the basin. 'Maldito sea! Bloody tap needs a new seal! How am I _ever_ going to get any rest listening to that?' Furiously he pulled the blanket over his face, hearing the muffled drops falling. 'Don't fight it, Almeida. Use it to go to sleep.' A picture of a beach he couldn't clearly remember came to him, with gentle waves rolling up the shore. He found himself smiling gently, wandering where it could have been. He had to have been terribly young or he would know. A new image crept unbidden into his mind, larger waves on the open ocean several miles off the coast, bearing down on him while he fought for his life.


	51. Chapter Fifty One

'Goodnight Tony. I'm off now. You working late again?' Jack inquired, glancing at him carefully.

Tony shook his head. 'I'm not really busy now, it's Michelle. She needs to finish a report, and I'm waiting for her. Hey, I can always find something to do!' He watched Jack leaving his office and settled down at his computer, rubbing his eyes. The last two coffees he'd drunk had little effect; he found it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open.

Hardly surprising really, if he thought about it. It had been a busy week, filled with meetings and paperwork, a visit from Chappelle and more activity than usual with terrorists. They were all tired, arriving at work early and leaving long after their shifts ended. Michelle hadn't finished on time that night either, still busy writing up a report that needed to get to Washington by morning.

The phone woke him up a little. He rubbed a hand across his face and picked it up, noting it was an internal call. 'Almeida,' he said, hearing the voice of the person at the switchboard.

'Mr. Almeida, I got a call from a Mr. Giles at the port. Abdul's been spotted buying a ticket for the midnight city cruise.'

He thanked her and spoke to the official, confirming that the terrorist they knew only as Abdul was in fact in the terminal. Tony couldn't imagine what such a man would want on an evening boat cruise, but he was going to bring him in wherever he was. He raced down the stairs and grabbed Michelle.

'Honey, we've got a lead on Abdul,' he told her, pulling on his jacket. 'He's down at the port. I'm going to bring him in.' His eyes shone, thrilled at the thought of a little action. Michelle looked less thrilled.

'Why don't you call a SWAT team, Tony? You're not seriously thinking of going after him alone, are you?'

'Honey, there's little time. And if he sees any police he'll just disappear. We've been monitoring this guy all week and we lost him yesterday. Finding him is pure luck. I'll be right back.'

'I'm going with you,' Michelle said suddenly. 'You'll do a lot better undercover with me, it'll look natural, a couple out together.'

Tony frowned at her, hating the thought of her joining him, but Michelle had already slipped her own jacket on. 'Just call the night shift supervisor and we can get going.'

He called his evening counterpart, hating the man and keeping his conversation as short as possible. They arrived at the port in time to see the small ferry taking on its final passengers. Michelle hastily bought two tickets and they rushed across the gangway.

'Tony, he's got a gun. He'll kill someone here if you try to arrest him. There's too many people around. We don't even know if he's here alone.'

Tony nodded. 'Yeah. We'll just go on this cruise and keep an eye on him, and I'll arrest him when we return. It would be great if we could find his entire group, but I doubt we'd get that lucky.' He found a seat on the ferry next to Michelle, opposite Abdul. The evening was cold but calm and the ferry nosed out of the harbor. A man appeared, thanking everyone for joining the tour and explaining the sights they would see. There were plenty of dolphins around, he assured the passengers, they were bound to spot one tonight.

'Focus Almeida. You're _not_ here to admire the sights of LA by sea! Don't even think of taking your eyes from Abdul for a moment!' He moved his eyes determinedly away from the spectacular sight and gazed at a different spot from where Abdul was in his periphery. Michelle bought two lemonades, handing him one. He gazed at her surprised. 'Honey, it's a bit chilly. What about a coffee?'

Michelle shook her head, enjoying the tour. 'Jenny down at archives said she's never seen anyone drink as much coffee as you. It's really not so healthy. I think you should drink more water instead.'

Tony groaned aloud. Once Michelle got something into her head, she carried it out. He foresaw having to spend the next several years sneaking out to the coffee machine whenever she was away from her desk. 'Honey, don't you think I'm allowed something that's a bit unhealthy?' he began, hoping to get her to see his side of it. 'I eat well, I don't smoke, I don't drink much, but coffee…'

'No, sweetheart, you're drinking at least eight cups a day, and its way too much,' Michelle told him, kissing him. 'You'll get to drink two and no more!'

Tony groaned for her benefit, knowing he would arouse her suspicion if he gave in too quickly. Abdul watched them with a bored expression. Tony slipped his arm around Michelle, pulling her close to him. 'Keep an eye on him for a moment, sweetheart. I'll take a quick look round to see whether I can spot any of his friends. Somehow he doesn't strike me as a man who's into tours.'

He got up slowly and left the deck, wandering into the main cabin. Crowds of people ate and drank, talking. He couldn't see a single suspicious person. He wandered down a narrow staircase past the toilets, peering into a dark room. There were spare ropes and buckets, and a can of oil. He turned to go, almost outside the room when he stopped. He hadn't heard anything, he hadn't seen anything, but he could swear there was someone in the darkness. Sight, sound, smell…That was it! The smell he had grown accustomed to in the Middle East during his military service. He pulled his gun from its holster.

'Stop now! Hands up! Throw down the gun real slowly.' Five men stepped out of the darkness simultaneously, pointing their weapons at him. Tony kept firm hold of his own gun, pointing it steadily at a man.

'I'll shoot him first,' he warned.

'No you won't, cop,' stated a man, pulling out his phone. He said two sentences into it rapidly in Arabic and pressed end. 'Now drop your weapon and move against the wall.' Tony remained immobile, his finger on the trigger. Footsteps appeared down the stairs and Michelle appeared, followed closely by Abdul, who held a gun to her head. 'Now cop, drop your weapon, or we'll kill the woman,' said the same man, smiling at Tony. Chewing his lip he did as they ordered, throwing his gun in the middle of the room. 'Good. Now move over to the wall. Try anything, she dies.'

'You touch her, I'll kill you,' he warned, furious for having allowed Michelle to accompany him. He faced the wall, feeling them push a gun against his own head. They spoke together and one man brought some rope, grabbed him and tied him to a post in the middle of the room. He turned his head, watching them push Michelle beside him and tie her own hands.

'Alright, I'll give you a chance to live. I want any phones and bugs now,' said the same man, gazing directly at Tony. 'Otherwise I kill the woman. She is worth nothing, anyway.'

Michelle's face turned red. She opened her mouth to make an angry retort. Tony interrupted her rapidly, not wishing her to draw any further attention to herself. 'I haven't got a bug. You can take my phone.' Hands patted his body down, confirming the lack of a bug and removing his phone.

'Your phone now, woman,' said the man, taking Michelle's phone. They patted her down, while Tony watched, forcing himself to remain silent. 'Good, now you wait.' Another man appeared and forced a cloth into his mouth, making him gag. Thick tape was placed round his mouth. 'Good. Now you sit here nice and quiet till we call you. If you're good, you get to bring the woman with you. If you're bad, she stays on the boat.' The man gave him a hard look before leaving the room, locking the door.

Michelle began banging with her feet, desperate to attract the attention of anyone using the toilets. After a second Tony joined in, surprised at the noise they managed to make.

The door was flung open and a man entered with a gun. He stared at the scene in silence for a minute before speaking into his radio. Two more men entered the room, speaking together. They moved towards Tony, slapping him hard across the face, laughing as his head jerked back and forth from the blows. Michelle struggled furiously, kicking one of them in the shins. He kicked her back in a rage, muttering something in Arabic under his breath. A second later he gave a shriek, as Tony's shoe met his knee with full force. 'I'll teach you to hurt her, you bastard,' he thought, feeling his fists clench behind the post. Another man reached down and grabbed him by his hair, pulling out a handful while he forced himself to remain silent.

'Try anything else, cop, the woman dies,' warned one of the men. They left the room, locking the door behind them.

Michelle turned to Tony, her face registering dismay at the sight of his bruises. A tear slipped out of her eyes. Tony shook his head at her and nodded towards the ground. He placed his hands on her pockets, attempting to speak through the gag, unable to understand a single word he said. She stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before slipping her hands into his pockets. Tony nodded, attempting to smile at her. She withdrew his car keys – he nodded again, making another futile attempt to speak. It was unnecessary, she already knew of his tiny pocket knife on the key ring. He attempted to smile at her through the gag as she moved closer to him. Tony held the tiny knife they had overlooked and cut through her ropes. Michelle got up, removing her gag. She took the knife and released him.

'Honey, I'm so sorry,' she began. 'Abdul started moving and you weren't back yet, so I followed him downstairs, and then he pulled the gun on me.'

'Sweetheart, you've done nothing to be sorry about. They called him, because I walked into a trap! Are you ok,' he asked her, worried.

She nodded. 'I'm fine. Tony, what did he mean; you can take me if you're good? What's going to happen to this boat?'

He shook his head. 'I don't know. Nothing good, if Abdul's involved. But it's odd; he's too good for simple boat hijackings. It doesn't add up.' He frowned, deep in thought. The roar of the engines changed, the waves pushed the boat from a different angle. They looked at each other.

'We're turning,' Michelle said.

Tony nodded, closing his eyes to feel the waves under the boat. 'We're heading directly out to sea,' he said, puzzled. 'We must be meeting a boat.' He looked at Michelle, wishing he hadn't brought her. 'Sweetheart, listen carefully. I'm going to make a noise and I'm going to take out the men who'll come in. I want you to try and use the radio. Call the coast guard and let him know the boat is hijacked and we need assistance. I'll be right up as soon as I'm done here.'

He banged on the floor loudly and waited while two irritated men entered. He gave Michelle a little push to get her moving through the open door, hearing her footsteps running along the corridor. The door banged behind her and the men yelled, moving towards him. When they were close enough he moved, snatching a gun from one of them. They faced each other, guns drawn. His training returned. Without hesitation he pulled the trigger, hitting the man with the gun in the chest and shooting the other seconds later. Picking up the second weapon he opened the door and moved along the corridor, almost bumping into a returning Michelle.

She shook her head at him. 'It's no good, Tony. The radio's dead. I only got a second in there coz the men came back.'

'Honey, it's going to be ok,' Tony told her, a lot more confidently than he felt. 'It's not surprising they disabled the radio. I want you to take a lifeboat and get out of here, go find another boat, there's plenty of fishing trawlers out tonight, and radio the coast guard from there.'

'What about you?' she asked, frowning at him. 'I'm not leaving you here to be killed, Tony.'

A warm feeling rushed through him and he drew her towards him, kissing her. 'Honey, someone's got to create a diversion. I'm good at that. And I wouldn't mind taking a look at the engines. We're going to be rammed into something, and since we're heading directly out to sea it can only be an incoming ship.' They looked at each other silently. 'I'll create a diversion and you can escape while they hunt for me. Whatever happens you're getting out of this alive, honey' he thought silently. Michelle remained motionless, holding his hand. 'Go, sweetheart,' he said, leading her along the corridor and up the stairs.

He pulled the cord on the lifeboat, and they watched it inflate, standing close together. 'Tony, I…' Michelle began.

Tony placed a finger to his lips, lowering the boat noiselessly into the water. 'I'll see you with the coast guard, honey.' He picked her up and lowered her carefully over the side. The boat sped away from the lifeboat, heading further out to sea. He watched it for a minute until he was certain it could no longer be seen, before turning away and creeping towards the ladder. One terrorist passed less than a foot from him as he pressed himself beside a lifeboat. He grabbed the man from behind, disarming him and forcing him down the ladder. Opening the locked door he pushed the man inside.

'Alright, you're going to tell me what's going on,' he demanded, releasing the safety on his weapon. 'Otherwise you'll join your friends.' He saw the terrorist glance at the bodies and make a sudden sharp movement. Tony grabbed him by the hair, pulling his neck as far as it would go. 'Oh no you don't, you bastard. You're not going to martyr yourself until you've told me _exactly_ what I want to know!' He glared at the man, lowering his gun. 'Otherwise I'll put a bullet right there!'

He saw the man close his eyes and knew he'd won. 'We go to meet Allah tonight, cop.'

'How?' he demanded, shaking the man harder.

'We're loaded with C4. We go to meet a returning US battleship in an hour,' boasted the man, gazing back at him defiantly. 'Allah u akbar.'

'Where's the C4?' Tony demanded, horrified by their plan. He knew precisely which ship was expected back that night, Bobby was on it. The man laughed at him and reached forward with his hand, attempting to snatch the gun. Tony shot him automatically, laying the body beside the other two. He leaned against the wall thinking hard, picturing the entire boat. Where would the explosives be hidden? He hadn't seen it upstairs, of course, so it would have to be somewhere below decks. Gun first, he pushed open the door and crept outside, checking every hatch.

The C4 proved to be in an innocent looking box just beside the opening that led to the engine. Tony grabbed the man who was guarding it, banging his head into the wall with full force. The man crumpled to the ground. He removed his gun and paused for an instant, wandering whether he should move the man back to the compartment he had been locked in with the bodies or leave him where he was and deal with the C4 first. Disposing of the C4 had priority, in the utmost silence, which ruled out shooting the man. Tony left him where he lay and attempted to move the box. It required his entire strength moving it inch by inch over to the ladder. Silently he crept upstairs to peer along the deck, suspecting he had only minutes left before someone would miss the men below. The deck appeared deserted – he heard only silence from the passengers. By now they would all be held in the main cabin unable to help him. Slipping back down silently he began the physically challenging task of pushing the box up the stairs, a step at a time. His biggest problem was preventing it from sliding back down and crushing him. He paused to get his breath back when he managed to push it onto the deck.

Tony wiped the sweat from his forehead and frowned at the box, wandering how he could dispose of it in the sea. It was quite impossible for him to lift it and throw it over the railing. A sudden thought occurred to him. He crept silently along the deck till he got to the back, noting the railing consisted of metal rods that could be removed, allowing the passengers on and off the cruise boat. He opened the railing silently and crept back along the deck. The box moved noisily across the deck, Tony pushing it as fast as he could aware he had less than a minute to spare. Four men appeared with guns, as he gave the explosives an extra large push and watched them slide into the water.

He was grabbed and disarmed before he could straighten. Rough hands hauled him back across the deck to where Abdul waited for him. Merciless eyes met his own, holding their gaze unblinking on him. Tony said a silent prayer, hoping they would shoot him quickly without torturing him first.

'Pull yourself together, Almeida. Michelle's safe. She's likely to have alerted the coast guard by now – these passengers will be saved too. You dumped the C4. You've completed your task!' Another part of him rebelled at the thought of being killed. 'No, I don't want to die! I got Michelle!'

'You caused us a lot of trouble today,' Abdul remarked, while two men held him in a vice like grip. 'Our plans have been set back for a few weeks. A pity you will not live long enough to see us complete them!'

'You'll never complete them,' Tony hissed, staring back defiantly.

Abdul walked around him suddenly, grabbing his left arm and snapping it expertly at the elbow. Tony heard himself let out a shriek as his broken arm was twisted further behind his back and bound at the wrist to his right hand, the cord cutting into his flesh. Abdul faced him while he fought for consciousness.

'You can go swimming, agent. Let the sharks eat well tonight.'

Hands hauled him back across the deck and pushed him over the edge. Dark cold water swallowed him, closing over him, so completely black he became disoriented. His arm ached ceaselessly; his lungs felt they would burst for air. His mouth opened and the air escaped from him, rising in bubbles to the surface. Kicking hard he did he best to follow them, opening his mouth and filling his lungs before a large wave washed over him. He managed to regain the surface, noting the boat was now a distant speck of light, the sole speck visible on the entire ocean! His body was lifted high by a second wave, the tops curling over him, forcing him into a spinning tunnel deep underwater. It took his entire strength to kick himself to the surface, having only moments to fill his lungs before another wave bore down on him. He was going to die in the ocean, pushed deeper than he could deal with; weighed down by the water he kept involuntarily swallowing.

'_On your feet, private! What the hell do you imagine you're doing? Every time I turn my back you're slacking off! Do you think its siesta time? Get up at once, or you'll have KP for the rest of the month!'_

He forced himself to the surface, filling his lungs. He would survive the next wave, and the one after that.

* * *

He blinked in the dim light, wandering how long he had been awake. The tap's steady dripping annoyed him intensely. He bore it as long as he could, knowing there was nothing he could do stop it. Little wander it had reminded him of his all night struggle to stay afloat in the cold Pacific. He rubbed his eyes, trying to remember what they had told him in the rescue helicopter. Something about being twenty miles off the coast, something about Michelle threatening them with bureaucratic hell if they gave up their search. 'A never ending stream of official government forms' the man had told him, 'detailed questionnaires requiring official ID with every mail. Mr. Almeida, we'd have searched the entire Pacific to avoid that! You're a lucky man.'

He had been, until now.


	52. Chapter Fifty Two

Michelle bent over him, pushing the hair back from his forehead, her fingers feeling cool against his hot face. She observed him in silence for a minute, with a worried expression. 'Tony, Chappelle promised I'd be back by the evening. Are you sure you'll be ok till then?'

Tony grinned reassuringly at her. 'Honey, I'll be fine! It's only a little fever. I'll rest a bit.'

Michelle pursed her lips. 'It's hardly just a little fever, sweetheart. You nearly drowned, you have a broken arm and your wrist is infected. You should still be in the hospital.'

Tony closed his eyes, resting against the pillows. He had hated the three days they kept him in the hospital, longing to be allowed to go home. He had been released with great reluctance the day before when Michelle had promised to nurse him at home and he had promised to rest in bed.

'The doctor is coming at seven. I'll be back by then. I brought you some juice and a plate of fruit, and there's a sandwich,' she pointed to a second plate on the bedside table. 'Your medicines are all there too, don't forget to take your antibiotics after three, and I'll just give you another two aspirins now.' She handed him two small white tablets and his juice, waiting until he swallowed them down. 'Sweetheart, I must go. I'm really sorry.'

'It's not your fault,' he told her, laying the juice back on the tray. 'I'll be ok. Go on, you don't want to keep Chappelle waiting!'

Michelle left with a last lingering look at him. He heard her opening the door before she rushed back. 'Tony, you're to stay in bed, promise.'

He grinned at her amused, half enjoying the fuss he had been given during the previous day and half exasperated. 'I promise.'

Michelle left the apartment and he lay back on his pillows, rubbing his eyes. He had been struggling with a book about a POW all morning, losing his place regularly. What he really needed was a strong coffee, which Michelle had decided he wasn't getting till he got a little better. 'How was he supposed to feel better this way?' he wandered. Slowly he pushed himself up with his good arm and swung his legs out of bed. The ground swayed beneath him as he made his way to the kitchen, leaning against the wall for support on the way.

Tony knelt down and opened a cupboard door, lifting out the coffee machine carefully with one arm. He opened the top cupboard's door and pulled out a jar of coffee, placing a spoonful in the machine and adding water. He switched it on and went to rest on the couch, allowing his thoughts to wander. 'At least no one can say I'm not a good swimmer,' he thought, remembering the hours he'd spent alone in the ocean with his hands tied behind him. A delicious aroma of coffee filled the room causing his mouth to water. He got up more cheerfully and poured himself a cupful, sipping it slowly on a barstool. He felt better than he had for days swallowing the hot liquid. One more cup remained in the coffee machine. Tony decided he'd drink that later in the afternoon and then he'd have to clean the machine and replace it in the cupboard before Michelle returned.

The phone rang in the kitchen, startling him. He lifted the receiver. 'Almeida.'

'Tony!' He heard the exasperation in Michelle's voice as clearly as if she'd been in the same room with him. 'What are you doing in the kitchen? You promised to stay in bed, remember?'

'Yeah honey, I was just going back,' he said, hoping she wouldn't question him too closely. Evidently she was extremely busy for she let it go at that, repeating her instructions about staying in bed. He rinsed his cup and headed back to the bedroom, taking the TV guide with him. There had to be something on that was worth watching! Carefully he climbed back into bed, taking care not to put any weight on the broken arm.

He lay back against the pillows, resting quietly for a couple of minutes. He slept for a while, waking up refreshed and more alert than he had been in the morning. What should he do next? Idly he picked up the TV guide, amazed at the amount of rubbish it showed. Well, he would watch a video then. He climbed out of bed and went to the living room, kneeling down to open the glass cabinet the video was in. He pulled out the tapes, sighing as he noticed his own had been pushed to the back and all the romantic ones lay at the front. He found a science fiction and put it on, settling on the couch, absorbed in a monster hunting for stranded humans on an abandoned space station, eating the pieces of fruit Michelle had cut up for him.

A loud ring interrupted the movie. Tony switched the TV off and grabbed his t-shirt, walking to the door as rapidly as he could. Bored as he was he would welcome anyone now, though he did wander who knew he was home that day.

'Hi Tony,' Jack greeted him, looking him over from head to foot. 'I went to visit you in the hospital, but they said you're already home. That was fast.'

'I'm fine, there was no need to stay any longer,' Tony said, feeling a sudden wave of dizziness take him. 'Want to come in for a bit?' he asked uncertainly, leaning against the wall for support.

'Sure,' Jack agreed, glancing round his apartment.

'Sit down,' Tony told him, moving a pile of ironing that lay on an armchair. He found two bottles of beer in the fridge and handed one to Jack. He hoped Jack wouldn't tell Michelle he'd seen the coffee machine. Exhausted, he sank onto the couch.

'They wouldn't let anyone visit you for the first two days and I didn't have time yesterday,' Jack explained. 'What are you doing with yourself?'

Tony shook his head. 'Not much! Trying to find a tape I haven't seen recently.'

Jack bent forward to examine the pile on the floor. 'They're Michelle's' Tony said hurriedly.

Jack nodded, grinning. 'Of course. So Tony, you decided to disarm ten men single handed and then take a swim with your hands tied and one broken arm several miles off the coast. Not a bad way to spend a night, really!'

Tony grinned wryly. 'Yeah, I got to view a spectacular sunrise!' He fell silent; having been certain it was his last.

Jack seemed to understand, for he nodded silently. They drank their beer, wandering what to discuss. 'How's Sanchez?' Tony inquired finally, laying his empty bottle on the floor. 'He was a great sniper back in the army.'

'He's excellent,' Jack agreed. 'Baker is really impressed with him. If you know any others who need a job, let him know.'

'I will,' Tony said, relieved. He had found Sanchez a job as a member of a swat team, knowing the man could do little else but shoot.

'Do you need anything?' Jack asked, glancing at his arm. Tony scowled at the sling.

'This thing is a nuisance. Could you help me open that large window? It kind of takes two hands.'

Jack opened the window and the smell of coffee slowly left the room. Jack wished him a pleasant few days rest and left, leaving Tony to watch the rest of the movie. When it was finished he took his medicine and put the tapes away. Feeling dizzy again he went back to bed, closing his eyes. He slept almost two hours before his cell phone woke him. 'Almeida' he said, trying to wake up properly.

'Tony, where are you? You sound like you just woke up?' questioned his father, puzzled.

Tony sighed. He was going to get a visit from his parents within the next half hour, he was certain. 'I'm home. I hurt my arm, so I've got a week off.'

'Tony, what happened?' asked his father, beginning to sound worried.

'Papa, I'm fine,' he said, sounding better as he woke up. 'I was just resting, that's all. How was San Francisco?'

'It's ok. I think I'll come and see you. You'll be home, won't you?'

'Yeah,' he answered with a sigh. He had hoped his parents would spend another couple of days with his sister Rita before returning. He hung up and climbed out of bed, running his comb through his hair and washing his face. His wrist throbbed and he felt warm again – obviously it was time for his antibiotics, aspirin and painkiller. Pouring himself more juice he took them all, feeling violently sick a few minutes later.

His parents gazed at him shocked into silence when he opened the door, leaning on it for support. 'Tony, what happened? You shouldn't be up!' exclaimed his mother, helping him across the apartment and back to bed. He couldn't help agreeing with her, the mixture of medicines was making him feel awful. 'Lie down, close your eyes. Don't tell me you took all these at once?' continued his mother, holding up the packets. She shook her head when he nodded. 'I'll get you a little weak tea, it'll help.'

He felt better after sipping the tea. Chewing his lip he sat up in bed, pushing a pillow behind him. 'Want to tell us what happened to your arm?' questioned his father, pulling out a chair. His mother sat on the bed beside him, feeling his cheek. She brought him a wet cloth which she placed on his forehead.

'Thanks mom.' He closed his eyes for a moment, forcing them open again. 'My arm was broken and I was thrown out of a boat. I stopped some guys from blowing something up.'

'How long were you in the water?' asked his father, pacing up and down the way he did when he was extremely agitated.

'About six hours,' Tony replied, avoiding his gaze.

They both spoke at once, clearly horrified. 'How could you swim with a broken arm, Tony?' asked his mother.

He pushed his good arm further under the blanket. 'Antonio, what happened to your wrist?' questioned his father, pointing to the bandage a few inches below his plaster cast. Tony turned his face the other way, not wishing to see their reaction.

'They tied it too tightly and it got infected.' His father walked round the room, facing him.

'No no no. They threw you in with your hands tied?' Tony nodded. He saw a new expression in his father's face. 'Where are these people, Antonio?'

His mother got up in a hurry and placed a hand on his arm. 'Calm down, Marco. He's ok now.'

'They're in prison,' Tony said. 'And I'm fine now.' He gazed firmly at his parents.

'No you're not,' said his mother. 'Shouldn't someone be with you?'

'Michelle was with me all morning, but she got called in to work. Our boss isn't impressed about us yet,' he admitted. 'That we're together.'

'It isn't any of his business,' exclaimed his father in surprise.

Tony sighed heavily. 'He'll think it is! He thinks everything under the sun is his business.' He fell silent, never having explained about Chappelle arresting him a couple of months ago. That was an incident he had resolved never to mention under any circumstance, knowing it would frighten his parents.

'Tony, what are you eating tonight?' inquired his mother, practical as usual. He shrugged, telling her he supposed Michelle would order a pizza. His mother looked distressed and went to the kitchen to prepare a meal, leaving him alone with his father.

'Get some sleep, Antonio,' he said, sitting back in the chair. 'Just close your eyes and rest.'

Tony closed his eyes, intending to rest for a few moments only and then listen to his parents' holiday in San Francisco, but weariness overtook him. He fell asleep listening to his mother working in the kitchen.

Michelle woke him with a kiss in the evening, hugging him tightly. 'Hi Tony, how are you? Your mom cooked a fantastic dinner.' She raised his pillows and helped him to sit up, handing him a tray. 'I cut up your meat for you, sweetheart.'

'Thanks honey,' he said, watching her carry her own plate into the bedroom and lay it down on the dressing table. They ate together, Michelle explaining that the emergency she had been summoned to deal with consisted solely of incomplete case files. They laughed together. 'Sweetheart, it _is_ an emergency, if you think like Ryan. Let's consider the poor guy. He eats dinner uneasily, struggles to focus on the evening movie, and suffers insomnia agonizing over CTU's incomplete documents. He wakes up in the morning with one thought on his mind "I've got to call that slack guy Almeida first thing!" And instead of feeling sorry for him or being ashamed that tiresome Almeida is going to offer some ill thought out excuse.'

Michelle laughed with him. 'I'm glad you're feeling a bit better, Tony. You looked pretty sick in the morning.' She took his tray and carried it out to the kitchen, returning with a shy smile on her face. 'I got you something. Guess which hand.'

Tony grinned, curious to see his present. 'Right hand' he said, and Michelle opened an empty hand. 'Ok, the left then,' he said, and she withdrew a book. He took it, reading the title. 'Michelle, you're incredible! It's about baseball.'

'There's a whole chapter about the Cubs' she told him, enjoying his delight. 'Look, there's pictures, there's interviews, lots of stats - everything you already know and hopefully more too. If I'm lucky it'll keep you in bed till the doctor says you can get up.'

'Honey, I wouldn't dream of moving,' he told her, looking through the pictures. 'This was published pretty recently, that guy just joined the team last season.'

'Today was it's first day on the shelf,' she told him, running a comb though his hair. 'Oh, Tony, if I catch you out of bed for _any_ reason and I mean _any reason_ at all, I'll take it straight back and get a refund!'

'Ow honey, you wouldn't be that mean!' he said, watching a smile creep across her face. 'You would? Ok, so I'll really have to stay in bed then.'

'Good. I'm glad we understand each other,' Michelle teased, getting up to answer a ring on the door. 'That's the doctor now. Be honest with him, Tony, you're already at home.'

Tony rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. 'Honey, I'm fine. Oh, he'll find something alright; it's his job, so he can get paid for coming tomorrow too, but really…'

'Really you should still be in hospital,' Michelle said sternly. 'So behave!'

'Fine. As long as he keeps his needles in his bag!' Tony retorted to her back as she opened the door.

'Good evening Tony,' said the doctor, putting his bag on the floor. 'How are you? No wait, I won't ask, you'll only tell me you're fine. How has he been?' he asked, turning to Michelle.

Behind his back Tony placed a finger on his lips, giving Michelle a meaningful look. 'He's a little better at the moment, but he was pretty sick this afternoon,' Michelle said. Tony narrowed his eyes and shook his head at her, stopping when the doctor turned to face him.

He sat forward and breathed in and out for the doctor, knowing in advance the man would fail to be satisfied. 'Not much improvement at all, I'm afraid. Seems it's a nasty infection. Keep taking the antibiotics and if there's no improvement by tomorrow I'll write you up a stronger one. You've been resting in bed all day, I hope?'

'Sure,' Tony agreed, not wishing to be taken back to hospital. 'I've been here the entire day!'

'And you've drunk the six liters of water I ordered to keep flushing the salt out of your system?' questioned the doctor, not completely satisfied, taking out his blood pressure machine. 'And stayed right away from coffee?'

Tony nodded, reminding himself that he still had three liters of water left to drink that day. 'Yeah.'

The doctor gave him a doubtful look. 'Well your blood pressure is still a little elevated. Maybe you should drink another liter of water now, and drink seven tomorrow! Now let me see your wrist.' He left, reminding Tony he would back the following evening and would readmit him to hospital if he found no improvement.

Tony groaned aloud once Michelle closed the door behind him. 'What did I tell you, honey? I'm fine, but he found a reason to come tomorrow too!'

Michelle turned the bedside lamp on; leaving the room dimly lit, and settled his pillows, lying him down. 'I'll get you some more water, sweetheart, and then you should get some rest.' She returned a few minutes later with another bottle of water, ordering him to drink it all.

Tony nodded, sitting up and swallowing the water slowly. 'It's ironic, honey, giving this much water to a guy they barely saved from a secondary drowning,' he remarked, remembering his panic at losing the ability to breathe hours after they flew him to hospital. He saw Michelle's face pale, and squeezed her hand. 'It's ok now honey, I made it.'

Michelle lay on the bed beside him, hugging him as tightly as she could. Startled, he felt his arm moist where she had buried her face. 'Honey, are you crying?' he asked softly. 'Shush, it's over now.'

'It nearly was,' Michelle wept. 'One minute you seemed ok, then you were gasping for air, then you stopped breathing and all the alarms came on and these doctors and nurses rushed in and they took me out.' She sniffed. 'Then they put you on a respirator and told me there wasn't much chance you'd make it, and you were there over eighteen hours…' Fresh tears poured from her eyes.

Tony pulled her closer, wishing he could use his other arm to wipe her tears. 'Lucky I don't remember any of it.'

Michelle got up, turning off the light. 'Get some sleep. I'll just do the dishes and I'll join you.'

He lay in the darkness waiting for her, determined to fall asleep in her arms. She returned a lot sooner than he expected, switching the bedroom light on. Her face had an annoyed expression on it.

'Tony! Care to tell me why the coffee machine isn't in its usual spot? And why it's a lot cleaner than when I put it away last?'

He gazed at her guiltily, knowing he had been caught. 'I have the right to remain silent…' he began, while she strode across the room, giving his shoulder a hard push. 'Ow, honey, don't fight! It was just one cup, honest.'

'I just can't trust you to behave, can I? Tomorrow you're being locked in the bedroom!' she said firmly, going out to continue the dishes.

Tony sighed heavily. 'Oh mom, why did you have to clean the coffee machine,' he muttered.

'Can you tell me how long I'm being detained tomorrow?' he asked Michelle when she joined him in bed a few minutes later. Moonlight streaming through the window showed a small smile light her face.

'Not just tomorrow, Tony! Until the doctor says you're better,' she replied.

'Ow honey! That'll be days. Do I get parole for good behavior?' he whispered back.

Michelle giggled, pulling him closer to her. 'Not a chance, Tony Almeida! You're staying here, and I'll watch you very closely.'

'How closely?' he questioned, running his hand seductively down her body.

She kissed him, settling in his arm. 'That depends on how well you are. Real close, I think. Goodnight, Tony!'

* * *

Loud cursing from down the corridor reached his ears, echoing round his cell. 'I'm not staying in this shithole! Who the hell do you think I am? I got my rights! I got my phone call! Where the hell's my ----ing lawyer?' Loud clanging followed, each blow reverberating through Tony's head. 'Hello! You're not listening to me! I GOT MY RIGHTS! Get me some shit lawyer or let me the hell out of here! You can't keep me here. This is the United States! I got rights!' More banging followed, rounded off with a string of curses.

Tony opened his mouth to make an angry retort before closing it silently; knowing anything he would yell would only agitate his neighbor further. He threw the blanket over his head in disgust, attempting to escape the noise. It floated through slightly muffled. 'I got my rights!'

The corridor opened. 'So did the woman you strangled, you bastard. Shut the hell up,' yelled the guard who had returned his blanket. A moment later the guard banged on his own cell. 'Prisoner, up!'

Tony climbed out of bed and stood in the middle of the cell, remembering to place his hands behind his back. 'What now?' he exclaimed impatiently.

'You're forbidden to keep your head and your hands under the blanket. If I see that again I _will_ remove the blanket!' To his surprise the guard made no mention of placing him on report for his rudeness.

'Yeah, but that guy's driving me nuts! Can't you shut him up?' Tony begged.

Amazingly the guard answered him. 'I've asked him. There's little else I can do except reduce his rations tomorrow. Everyone is allowed an hour or so of yelling.' He turned away.

'I don't believe this place!' Tony muttered, lying back down on his bed.


	53. Chapter Fifty Three

The sound of his bell pressed repeatedly startled Tony, who had been watching the end of a long film half asleep. He moved to the door rapidly, hoping whoever it was wouldn't ring again and wake Michelle. She had fallen asleep beside him on the couch an hour ago her head resting on his chest. He had kissed her awake and smiled at her, and he had gone with her to bed, tucking her up. 'I'll come real soon, sweetheart, I promise.' The bell rang again.

'Wait a sec, I'm coming,' he called, fumbling with the locks. He stared in astonishment at his brother. Marco gave him a resigned look, nodding his head at the two suitcases beside him. They gazed at the ground in silence before Tony sighed. 'She threw you out, right?'

'Not exactly,' Marco told him, lifting a suitcase. Tony picked up the second one and carried it inside. 'We agreed to separate for a while.' His eyes stayed on the floor and he looked miserable, standing in the middle of the room beside his luggage.

Tony clasped his shoulders. 'Sit down. I'll get you a drink.' He switched the TV off and poured them both a whisky. 'Want to talk about it?' he asked, unable to imagine how his brother must be feeling. Tony had never liked Marco's wife, and he knew his parents hadn't either, but Marco had.

Marco shook his head, rubbing a hand across his face. 'Not much to say really. I came back to work some things out with her…I didn't know things were this bad.' He swallowed his drink without tasting it. Tony got up and poured him another. 'I guess I'm away too much.'

'Yeah,' Tony said, not wishing to remind his brother that his leaves were filled with squabbling with his wife.

'Listen Tony; is it ok if I stay here tonight? I didn't want to bother mom at this hour, and the ship's being serviced.'

'Sure' Tony agreed. 'You're welcome to stay as long as you need to. I'll find you a key, coz Michelle and I have to go to work real early tomorrow.' He handed Marco a key and showed him how to disarm the security before tiptoeing into the bedroom. He pulled a blanket from the closet and slipped outside, handing it to his brother. 'I've only got the couch, I'm afraid.'

'Its fine,' Marco told him gratefully. He threw his clothes in a pile on the armchair and pulled the blanket over himself. 'Boy I'm tired. Goodnight, Tony.'

'Goodnight. Marco, things could be better in the morning, you know.' Marco shook his head at him sadly. Tony squeezed his shoulder once again, going to bed quietly. Marco would talk when he was ready – in the meantime he was determined to help him get through the next few days. He cuddled next to Michelle, watching her sleeping face lit by the moon. Once again his breath caught in his throat. 'My God, she's lovely.' Very gently he planted a kiss on her forehead, taking care not to wake her. She moved a little and a smile crept across her face. He smiled at her, once again marveling at his incredible fortune having her, and placed his head by her shoulder. He fell asleep, dreaming of spending the entire day on the beach with her.

His shoulder was shaken hard in the morning, waking him unexpectedly. He blinked and saw an annoyed Michelle frowning at him. 'What's up, honey?' he asked, puzzled.

'Tony! I went out to get your coffee started, and there's a man sleeping on the couch. You could have warned me, you know. I wasn't exactly dressed!'

'Oh,' Tony said, sitting up in bed. 'I'm sorry honey, he came after you fell asleep. It's just my brother Marco. His wife threw him out last night. Is he up?'

'No, thank goodness,' Michelle said, still a little annoyed, grabbing some clothes. 'How long is he staying?'

Tony shrugged. 'I'm not sure. He had four weeks leave; he still has around three I guess. Don't worry sweetheart, he'll go to mom's today. He just has to work up some courage.'

'Why?' she questioned, brushing her hair. 'They didn't mind when your sister left Robert. Get up Tony, you'll be late.'

Tony climbed out of bed and grabbed his clothes. 'Sweetheart they knew he was having affairs with dozens of girls. But they'll expect more from Marco. He's abandoning his family – they won't like that!'

Michelle shook her head, utterly confused. 'I don't get it at all, Tony. He's away all the time anyway.'

'Yeah, but they're married, he provides for them. That's his job, he's the husband,' Tony told her, seeing a strange expression come into her eyes.

'They're real traditional, I guess,' Michelle said finally. 'But he didn't exactly abandon them, he was thrown out! Doesn't that count?'

Tony shook his head. 'They'll expect him to try to sort it out. It's the way they are, honey. They don't exactly approve of divorces. They always taught us that a marriage is for better or for worse, and it's up to you to make it better.' He pulled on his shoes. 'I'll get breakfast started. Michelle, I'm sorry. Gimme a kiss.' He pulled her towards him and kissed her deeply, running a hand through her hair.

'You're forgiven this time, Tony. But next time one of your relatives decides to spend the night, let me know. Go on, make breakfast, we'll be terribly late.'

Tony made scrambled eggs and bacon, toast and fried tomatoes, dividing everything up three ways. He carried three cups of coffee to the table and shook Marco gently. 'Wake up, Marco. I made breakfast. We've got to go soon, and I'd like you to meet Michelle.'

Marco gazed at him in a panic, pointing to the armchair. 'Ok, you've got a minute, she's doing her hair,' Tony whispered, enjoying his brother's embarrassment. He folded his arms and watched Marco pulling his clothes on rapidly. 'You know Marco, if you would've dressed half this fast, we wouldn't have been late to school so often in Chicago,' he remarked, ' and I wouldn't have been told off every single morning.'

'Give me a break, Tony,' Marco said, grinning at him. 'I was in first grade; I didn't want to go to school.'

Tony grinned back, relieved to see his brother appeared more cheerful. Marco buttoned his shirt and sighed. 'Tony, I forgot to bring my comb. Can I borrow yours?'

'Sure' he said, handing one to his brother. 'Now you can wash your face in the kitchen coz Michelle always spends a while doing her hair in the bathroom, and you'll look presentable.'

By the time Michelle emerged from the bathroom they sat at the table. 'Michelle, this is my brother Marco,' Tony told her, pulling her to the table gently, 'the one who always wanted to take my coolest toys. Marco, this is Michelle.' He left the rest of it unsaid, 'the most beautiful woman in the whole world.'

'Hi, I'm sorry to bug you guys,' Marco said, looking ashamed.

'Its fine,' Michelle agreed, looking at him carefully. 'You look so like Tony.'

'Yeah, but I play better basketball,' Marco confided, smiling at Michelle.

'Now Marco, remember where you are,' Tony teased. 'I might just get upset about that. Especially as it's completely true.'

'You guys busy today,' Marco inquired, helping himself to more coffee.

'Just a bit,' Michelle told him. 'I've got to get to work soon, and Tony has a meeting with one of our bosses at Division. You'd better hurry Tony.'

'Honey, don't remind me,' Tony said, shaking his head at her. 'It took me a while to make this breakfast, I want to enjoy it! What are you doing today, Marco?'

Marco shook his head, looking depressed again. 'I don't know. I was supposed to take the kids to the zoo. I'll just hang around, I guess.'

'Michelle, if you could drive me to Division I can leave Marco my car for the day, and he can get to the zoo,' Tony said, getting up. 'Don't break your promise to the kids, Marco. And behave,' he said, collecting the plates and piling them in the sink. 'I don't want to find any bananas in my mail box this afternoon!'

They laughed together. 'Thanks Tony. I appreciate it. I'll do the dishes, you just run!'

Tony rushed to the lift, holding the door for Michelle. She looked at him inquisitively as they reached the car. 'What was that about the banana?'

He grinned at her, tossing his briefcase onto the back seat. 'Ask him. He did it, not me!'

Michelle dropped him at Division and he raced inside, showing his card to the security guard. Both Chappelle and Hammond were already in the conference room waiting for him. He slid into the nearest seat and laid his briefcase on the table. 'Sorry.'

Chappelle shook his head and made a point of looking at his watch. 'It's quite alright, Almeida. No one would seriously imagine you'd arrive on time!'

Tony chewed his lip to keep silent and opened his bag, finding the file he needed. 'God I hate these meetings,' he thought. 'At least I understand why Mason was so much more pissed off than usual after he got back from one of them!'

They discussed a further tightening of security due to the mole that had recently been uncovered in Division. 'I want you to give it priority, Tony,' Chappelle told him. 'Let Michelle take care of the daily tasks until you're done. I expect you to have completed the overhaul in the next five days. Provided, of course, you and Michelle are able to spare a little time for work.'

Tony's face flushed. 'Ryan, you're aware CTU's been through a lot recently. We were up and running at 100 percent capacity just four months after the bombing. That included five weeks surrounded by decorators. Having Michelle there helps us both focus better on our work.'

'We'll see,' Chappelle remarked, throwing him a doubtful look.

'I'll check it personally by the beginning of the week,' Hammond told him, fixing him with his bulldog stare. 'Your entire system will be overhauled and the new security implemented, Almeida, even if you got to stay there for the next five days!'

'It'll be ready,' Tony promised, fighting his usual urge to make a sharp retort. 'Are we done here?'

They dismissed him and he hurried out to his car, slamming his fist into the dashboard. 'Bastards won't quit mentioning Michelle! She works harder than anyone else. Next time they mention her name like that I'll wring their necks…No you won't, Almeida! After all, you love this job. Eventually they'll get sick of hassling you about her. They better do anyway.'

Michelle was busy at her computer, her face showing total concentration. Tony's eyes lit up, he hurried through the bullpen hoping no one would bring him anything urgent to sign and slipped into the kitchen. The coffee machine's bubbling filled the small room, letting out an intoxicating aroma. Of course his mug was upstairs, but he would use another now – it was worth it for the pleasure. 'After all, I do deserve it today,' he told himself, sipping the scalding drink. His rage faded as the mug emptied and he closed his eyes for a moment.

'Tony! I caught you red handed! You'd better have a real good explanation,' Michelle said, removing the mug from his hand.

Tony gave her a sheepish grin, noting how lovely she looked frowning at him. 'I sure do, sweetheart. A couple of hours over at Division are enough to turn anyone mad. I needed something before I could face things here. Come on, Michelle, you know what they're like!'

Michelle nodded, smiling at him. 'I do. Ok Tony, I'll excuse you this once! But don't try it tomorrow! What did they want?'

Tony groaned aloud, rubbing his head. 'Just a complete overhaul of our systems in the next five days! Hammond's going to come and check personally and he wants it done, even if I have to spend the next couple of days and nights here.'

'Well you won't' Michelle said firmly. 'You're only just back at work, Tony. You should still be resting.'

Tony grinned at her. 'I intend to, don't you worry. You and I were going out to dinner somewhere tomorrow, weren't we?'

Michelle nodded and grinned at him, her eyes meeting his. Tony leaned forward and pulled her towards him, giving her a quick kiss. 'Better get started,' Michelle told him and he nodded, phoning Jack and holding a meeting with Adam and Chloe. He was completely spent by the time Michelle drove them home, feeling surprisingly weak.

'Just possibly the doctor wasn't completely wrong this time,' Tony thought as he gazed at the traffic. 'I have been over doing it, despite promising I'd take things easy for a couple of days.'

The light shone in their apartment when they returned and the table was laid. Michelle stared in surprise at Marco. 'I figured you guys would be tired,' he said awkwardly. 'I'll go get my things now. Thanks for the use of the car, Tony.'

Tony glanced at Michelle who nodded her head. 'Marco would you like to stay another night?' he asked. Marco nodded embarrassed. 'Ok, so grab a plate and have some dinner,' he said. 'How was your day?'

Marco brought a plate and filled it, eating hungrily. 'It was difficult. I hardly know those kids, and they sure took me for a ride! Tristan wouldn't sit in the pram, he kept whining till I let him walk, and Inga kept wanting to ride _in_ the pram, and I was arguing with her when Tris wandered off, so then I had run around like mad to find him. Hell Tony, it's far easier running an entire battleship than watching those two!' Tony got up and fetched a bottle of whiskey. 'Thanks, I guess I could use one,' Marco admitted. 'You don't look too well yet, Tony.'

'I'm a little tired, that's all. Why don't you entertain Michelle while I sit here on the couch and listen,' he said, settling comfortably. 'Marco's a great story teller, sweetheart; just don't believe a word he says!'

Marco's eyes lit up as he settled on an armchair, smiling at Michelle. 'Ok, Tony, you asked for it! I'll bet you never told her about your forging papa's signature on your school reports or about…'

'Do tell,' Michelle begged, while Tony rolled his eyes at her.

* * *

Unable to settle down to sleep, he got up and made his way back to his familiar corner, leaning against the wall. His eyes scanned the length of the floor, resting on the bars, while he listened to his neighbor's yells. 'Let me the hell outa here!'

Well, he could understand that sentiment! 'Yeah, let me out,' he whispered. 'Please please please let me out of this dump!'

The steel door opened again and the guard returned, banging his night stick on the new arrival's cell. 'Hey, keep it down! You're disturbing others along the corridor. You'll get a lawyer tomorrow. Now shut it!'

'I don't give a rat's arse about any bloody criminals down this corridor, I want MY RIGHTS!'

Tony found himself on his feet, striding indignantly towards the bars. A criminal indeed! Him? He would wring that man's neck in a moment! The guard walked past his cell, stopping to examine him.

'Prisoner, why aren't you sleeping? You've got your bail hearing first thing in the morning.'

Tony rubbed his hand along his face, wincing slightly. 'Can't you take that man to some other corridor?' he begged.

He glanced at the guard, wandering whether he would be pulled up for failing to use the word 'sir', but the guard ignored the omission. He returned Tony's gaze, shaking his head regretfully. 'No I can't. This is the corridor for pre-bail prisoners, the newly arrested ones. I can't take him to "transfer" and I can't take him to "limbo". There's nowhere else except here.'

'You're saying there's nowhere else in this whole place you can find a spare cell to stick him in?' Tony asked bitterly.

'Oh, there's plenty of cells alright, but…'

'Yeah, I know. It's not the right place; it would mess up your system! He gets to stay here to entertain me all night. What's "limbo" anyway?' he questioned, longing to hold a conversation with someone who wasn't threatening him with every second word.

The guard glanced idly down the empty corridor, as aware as Tony of the pointlessness of patrolling there. '"Limbo" is the place for pre-trial prisoners – the ones who don't make bail,' he answered finally. 'You prisoners invented that word, I think, but it kinda stuck. It's in the next wing, and it's a lot busier than this place tonight!'

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the nausea in his stomach. So "limbo" was a busy place – well, it would get busier tomorrow! 'What's it like?' he asked casually.

The guard gazed at him with something akin to sympathy. 'It's much like this place,' he said encouragingly, while Tony fought against his panic. 'Quite nice, really! Twenty cells down each corridor, and no tiers on top of you, oh, it's much more comfortable than the prison you'll get to serve your sentence in. After all, prisoners in limbo get to borrow two books a week from the library; it's not as boring as this place.'

Tony nodded, absorbing the man's words. The prison he would be sentenced to was going to be worse than "limbo". 'You're saying these prisoners get to go to the library to choose a couple of books?' he questioned, seeing the guard looked ready to leave.

The guard looked shocked, shaking his head at once. 'Hell no. Prisoners in "limbo" don't get to go anywhere! A guard will bring the library trolley every Monday and issue each cell with two books! No,' he said, as he saw Tony about to open his mouth. 'Prisoners get given books at random – they certainly don't choose! Do you imagine anyone has time to read through a list of requests?'

'I guess not,' Tony said with a sigh. 'But they get to write letters don't they? And receive some?'

'They get to write a letter a week unless they got a D-report. A disciplinary report,' he clarified, seeing Tony's mystified expression. 'But they don't get to receive any. They got to be sentenced first, you see. No visitors are permitted under any circumstance whatsoever either, of course, or any phone calls, although you get to see your lawyer.'

'How long do people get left there?' he asked, distressed. He could get to write a letter to Michelle, but not to his parents, and would be denied any word from them. How long could he cope with that? One week, two possibly?

'Anything from a couple of weeks to a couple of months,' said the guard, glancing towards the other occupied cell. 'Depends on when the trial is. I must continue my patrol now, prisoner.'

'Wait a minute, please,' Tony said, watching the guard turn back to him. 'I've got a fever. Could you bring me a couple of aspirins when you come back? The doctor left a note to say I can take something if I'm sick.'

'I'll see' said the guard, resuming his patrol.

Tony returned to his corner, rubbing his stiff eyelids gently, his thoughts in a jumbled whirl. "Limbo" – they even had a term for such a place! A cell much like this one, on a corridor much like this one except populated with not one, but nineteen other abusive prisoners. No visits, no calls, no letters! He allowed his head to sink into his hands. 'I can't do that, sweetheart,' he whispered to the photo. 'I just can't do that.'


	54. Chapter Fifty Four

_Thanks for the reviews. I really love to see them!_

'Sweetheart, that's my phone,' Michelle told him, walking into the living room brushing her hair. 'Have you forgotten to charge yours?'

Tony grinned sheepishly at her and held out his phone. 'It's fully charge, honey.' She stared at him puzzled. 'You remember the game a couple of hours back? How they disqualified Jones for punching that other guy? Well, there's a chance to register your vote – did he deserve to get thrown out or not. I'm voting NO! The whole team lost coz he was chucked!'

Michelle began to laugh at his outraged expression. 'Tony Almeida, I don't believe you! You're not a teenager anymore. Sure the guy was the best Cubs player, but he clearly punched his opponent in the nose. That's just not allowed – he deserved to be disqualified.'

Tony shook his head firmly. 'Sweetheart, you're getting it wrong! Ok, it wasn't right to punch that bastard King on the nose, I'm not saying it was, but King pushed him three times! You saw that too, our guy just got a little pissed off! He wouldn't even have been chucked if the umpire hadn't been supporting the other guys all through the game. The umpire should be disqualified, not Jones!'

Michelle laughed louder. 'Tony, relax. Next thing you'll be telling me is that any umpire that doesn't favor the Cubs deserves to be arrested!'

Tony pulled a thoughtful expression onto his face, pointing a finger at her. 'Now that you mention it, sweetheart, it's a great idea. Next time he's on duty I'll get him detained for a couple of hours, and someone else will have to fill in!'

Michelle shook her head, highly amused. 'Sweetheart, we were going out to dinner, remember? You should start getting changed.'

'Yeah, I will in a sec,' Tony told her, entering the last of a string of numbers into her phone. A mechanical voice informed them that 'your protest has been recorded.'

'There,' said Tony, pleased. 'I've voted three times now, from the house phone, my cel and now yours. Blasted machine registers phone numbers, so I can't vote more than once from any phone.'

Michelle shook her head again. 'I think the idea is that you're only supposed to vote once, honey.'

Tony nodded, pulling her in for a kiss. 'Yeah, but I'm REALLY annoyed with the umpiring, so I'm expressing my full displeasure.'

'So what's stopping you from driving round every phone box in town and calling from them?' Michelle teased. 'Tony, where are you going?' she cried as he pulled abruptly away from her.

'Honey, you're a genius! You just gave me an idea! There's two phone boxes just down the street. I'll be right back!' He left the apartment in a great hurry, noting Michelle remained in the middle of the room, her hand clasped over her mouth.

'Tony,' she called, hurrying after him. He turned, standing in the door of the lift.

'Sweetheart, I'll be right back.'

'Tony, pay phones take money. Have you got any change?'

Tony felt through his pockets and pulled out a ten cent piece. 'That's not gonna be enough, I guess?'

Michelle handed him her purse. 'It's full of loose change. You can use some of it. Don't be long Tony, we've got reservations, we'll lose our table.'

Tony promised to be back in five minutes and hurried from the apartment block. 'I've done it,' he told her returning triumphantly. 'I've voted five times now!'

Michelle pushed him into the shower, pulling his clothes off. 'It's great sweetheart, you're a fantastic fan. I got you an extra two votes also. I called your mom and asked her to call that number, and I called my friend Kathy, and she promised she would too. Now if you promise to have a shower and get dressed by yourself, I'll call July. She loves to take part in surveys, and she never watches baseball, so she'll be happy to vote your way.'

Tony pulled her towards him, raising her chin to smile into her eyes. 'Honey, I don't deserve you. Thanks.' He showered hurriedly while Michelle called her friend. She joined him a few minutes later as he dried himself, smiling at him.

'Honey, July says she'll vote your way, if you and I go to have dinner with her on Wednesday. What shall I say?'

Tony smiled at her, knowing July was her best friend. 'Sure we'll go. Ah Michelle, tell her I'll come as long as she won't cook fish!'

Michelle gazed at him in alarm and pointed to her phone that lay on the bed. Tony chewed his lip, glancing at her apologetically. 'July, sure we'll come.' She listened for a moment and then giggled. 'Ok, I'll let him know.' She turned to examine him critically while he pulled a face at her.

'What? Is my hair sticking up? Have I left shampoo somewhere?'

Michelle took his face in her hands gently, bending him closer for a kiss. 'No, you look fine. Want to know what July said last. That you're so handsome she'll forgive your dislike of fish.' They laughed together.

'At least she didn't see me feeding the last lot to the cat,' Tony said, relieved. 'She didn't call you for a while, honey, I was getting worried she found out after all.'

Michelle look horrified. 'You didn't! Oh Tony, how could you? She would've been terribly offended. No wander that cat followed you round all evening, it normally hates strangers. I just thought you had a fantastic way with them!'

'And I do,' he told her cheekily, fumbling with his tie. Michelle moved to do it for him, placing a kiss on his face. He dressed rapidly and grabbed his keys. They drove to the restaurant and a waiter showed them to their table. Both men rose to greet Michelle.

'Michelle, that's my younger brother Bobby,' Tony told her, introducing a young man who reminded her immediately of his mother. 'He's been occupied on the ship for the last five days. And here's Marco again.'

Michelle nodded, smiling at them. 'Occupied,' Marco scoffed, sipping a beer. 'Confined to quarters, more like it!'

'Don't listen to a word he says,' Bobby remarked, blushing, shaking her hand. 'He exaggerates! I had free run of the ship!'

'Captain Melville's more lenient than me,' Marco observed. 'You deserved to be locked in your cabin on bread and water, my dear brother!' His eyes sparkled as he finished his sentence.

'Come on Bob, what did you get yourself into this time?' Tony questioned patiently.

'There was a little fight,' Bobby admitted. 'I kinda started it, but it really wasn't my fault. Don't look at me like that Tony, I swear I was provoked! Those marines swaggering about like they owned the place and one of them had the cheek to say the navy wasn't pulling its share of the load! Anyway, we were all picked up by some MP's and returned to our various officers, and Captain Melville was quite unimpressed, and God knows what would have happened if this gorgeous girl hadn't walked onto the ship demanding to speak to him! She swore none of it was my fault at all, and the captain just kept staring at her, so I got away with five days stuck on board at my next leave.'

'Bob's spent every spare moment with her,' Marco teased. 'So would I, if I'd be single.' He sighed heavily and Tony looked at the menu in a hurry.

'What should we have?'

'Well, I'm not sure about anyone else, but Tony will have the fish,' Bobby said, his eyes sparkling with fun.

Tony rolled his eyes, laughing as hard as the rest of them. 'Look guys, have what you like, but if _any _of you order fish you'll just have to sit somewhere else,' he said firmly.

'Ow Tony, it's hardly fair,' Bobby protested. 'We'll all have fish, so you can move – go join that cheerful looking old guy over there who's been eyeing you and Michelle since you arrived. The one who looks like he's just back from a funeral.'

Both Tony and Michelle turned to glance at the man in question, the smile fading from their faces. 'Oh shit,' Tony breathed softly. 'Of all the people to run into on our night out, it has to be Hammond! He'll come over in a minute and ask how the upgrade is going.' Michelle glanced questioningly at him. 'Honey, I'm not real sure,' he admitted. 'Chloe and Adam got started alright, but I spent that much time mediating squabbles I don't know how much they got done.' He rubbed his face. 'Let's just pretend we didn't see him, he might not come over.'

'His wife seems a little depressed,' Michelle observed quietly. 'Mind you, I'd be real gloomy too, with a husband like that! Let's eat.'

They ordered, and listened to Bobby describing his new girlfriend. She taught first grade in the English language school in Kuwait, and Bobby adored her. Tony found himself hoping something serious would come of it, a pretty girl would settle his brother faster than anything else. He chewed his steak slowly, listening to his brothers answering Michelle's questions about the navy and the various ships when she reached over and kicked his ankle gently. He looked up, noting a shadow fall across his plate.

'Oh great, here we go,' he thought, pulling a surprised expression onto his face. 'Mr. Hammond sir, good evening,' he said pleasantly, echoed by Michelle.

Hammond regarded them with the same bulldoggish expression he always reserved for Tony. 'Almeida,' he began, forgoing any pleasantries. 'I'm surprised to see you here – relieved but surprised. Our IT guys led me to expect an upgrade such as you're undertaking would require at least three days steady work, yet you appear to have found a little time to enjoy yourselves. Can I conclude that my IT guys were way out with their estimates?'

'Mr. Hammond, our IT people and Tony spent the entire day on the upgrades, and they're coming along fine,' Michelle said gently.

'They better be. I'll call you tomorrow, Almeida, around nine in the morning, to check the progress,' Hammond said, viewing them coldly.

'On a Sunday!' Tony exclaimed startled.

'Almeida, this matter cannot wait for us to enjoy a weekend,' Hammond snapped. 'I will expect a full report; see you have something to tell me.' He stared coldly at Bobby and Marco.

Tony swallowed his retort down, humiliated at being lectured in front of his younger brothers. Aware Hammond fixed his gaze on them he sighed quietly. 'Mr. Hammond, my brothers Roberto and Marco,' he said, watching them nod their heads in his direction.

Hammond stared through Bobby and focused on Marco. 'Mr. Almeida,' he said, coolly.

'_Captain_,' Marco corrected him equally coolly. 'US Navy. It's a pleasure, _Mr._ Hammond!'

Tony bit his lip hard to keep his grin from spreading across his face. Beside him Michelle showed a sudden keen interest in a piece of lettuce.

'Don't let me interrupt your meal. Tomorrow at nine, Almeida,' Hammond said, retreating in a hurry.

They all let out the breath they were holding. 'Whew Tony, that guy's about as tiresome as a visiting admiral,' whispered Marco. 'Better not let him anywhere near my ship, I might lose him overboard!'

'Hell Marco, you're tempting me,' Tony whispered back. 'I'll be sure to point out your ship to him next time we meet.'

They all watched Hammond leave the restaurant with his wife, without a backward glance at them. 'Who is that creep, anyway?' Bobby demanded. 'He just stared through me as though I didn't exist!' His lips were set in a thin line and his eyes flashed.

'Guess you failed to impress him, Bob,' Marco told him cheerfully. 'Almeida, you better have that upgrade ready by nine,' he said, mimicking Hammond so perfectly Michelle laughed aloud.

'Yes Almeida, I'll come and check whether it's ready first thing on Monday,' Bobby continued, shaking a finger at Tony. 'Wasting your time like this! Saturday night is for civilians to enjoy, not people like us!'

'Ok, you guys, that's enough,' Tony said regretfully. 'Let's forget about him.'

Michelle glanced at the three of them, noting the unspoken message that passed between them. 'What did I just witness here? The Almeida brothers uniting against an outsider?' she asked.

Tony nodded, squeezing her hand under the table. 'Why don't we talk about Jones being disqualified?' Michelle asked, to his relief. She watched as they all denounced the umpire, expressing a desire to see him in hell. 'Did you guys phone in your protests?' she asked at a lull in the conversation. They stared at her surprised.

'No, I didn't know there was one,' Marco said. 'We switched off the TV when the Cubs lost!'

Tony reached forward, grabbing his phone. 'Thanks, sweetheart,' he told her, throwing her a grateful look. 'I'll just lodge another couple of protests.'

'There's a pay phone at the back too,' she pointed out, watching him with the expression a mother reserved for an exasperating child. Tony slipped his arm round her and dialed the numbers, having memorized them ages ago. He smiled hearing the now familiar voice informing him his protest had been recorded, and returned the phone to Marco, taking Bobby's.

'Thanks guys, I'll just go use that phone for a sec. Michelle, order me something for dessert, would you?' He left, hearing Bobby asking what was up with him, and Michelle telling them he had been calling in protest votes all evening. He turned back to them grinning. 'Yeah, I'm real busy supporting the Cubs now, and after I take Michelle home I'll go call from a few more places.'

Michelle shook her head. 'No you won't Tony. You've got to go into work real early tomorrow, you'd better call both Chloe and Adam now and warn them to come in too, and that means you'll need to get to sleep on time.'

'She's right Tony, you don't want to piss the old guy off,' Marco told him, grinning. 'Bobby and I will drive round and call, just give us the number.'

'Well sweetheart, you met all my sisters and now you know two of my brothers as well,' Tony told her. 'What do you think of Bobby?'

'He's really sweet,' Michelle told him, cuddling into his arms. 'They're all nice except for your grandmother.'

'What did I tell you?' he asked, kissing her.

* * *

Tony heard the footsteps approaching the steel door over the noise of his neighbor's continued cursing. He got up slowly from his corner and walked to the bars, leaning against them, watching the guard banging on the cell. 'Shut the hell up – I heard enough already, you bastard!' He continued without missing a beat, holding out two white tablets for Tony. 'Prisoner, take two steps back,' he ordered automatically and Tony moved to obey, watching them laid in the food slot.

'Thanks,' he said gratefully, taking them out with difficulty as his fingers were too swollen to permit bending. He carried them over to his basin, struggling with the tap and gathering enough water in his palm to swallow them down. When he turned he noticed the guard remained in front of his cell, staring at his hands.

'Who put those cuffs on you, prisoner?' he asked.

Tony sighed heavily, knowing the man would leave immediately he answered. 'The warden,' he admitted.

The guard nodded. 'Yes, you're listed as extremely dangerous, you attacked Mr. Varey.' To Tony's amazement he saw a sparkle light up the guard's eyes for a second before his face resumed its blank mask.

'Yeah,' he replied tiredly. 'Want to tell me what the punishment cells are like round here?' he inquired, studying the man's shoes. There was no chance he would be granted bail, so he would spent the next several weeks between "limbo" and the punishment cell. Worry creased his brow as he raised his eyes to meet the guard's.

'How long did you get?' questioned the guard.

'Two weeks,' he replied, 'fourteen days,' he added to himself. It sounded longer that way.

'It's quite a while,' remarked the guard. 'It's survivable, but you won't forget it in a hurry! The cell is small, (as thought this wasn't, Tony thought) about half the size of this. There's a mattress on the floor and a hole in a corner, and there's two doors, so you don't get to see or hear anything from the outside. Your food will be pushed through the slot twice a day – you better replace the tray the moment you're done or you won't get anything the next day. It's dark in there.'

So it was similar to sensory deprivation, for two weeks. Tony chewed his lip, gazing back at the floor. 'How dark?' he asked quietly.

'Very dim. You won't see much light at all while you're there. The entire corridor is dark, so you won't get to see any extra light when you get your food either. You'll just about be able to make out your mattress and tray.' He paused, watching Tony closely. 'Just remember, no one gets forgotten and left to die,' he said finally, before resuming his patrol.

Tony returned to his corner soberly. The guard's final words rang though his ears. "No one gets forgotten…" So it would appear as though he would be left to die alone in the dark.

'Great start to your imprisonment, Almeida,' he muttered sarcastically, failing to shake his despair. 'A really great start!'


	55. Chapter Fifty Five

'Maldito sea!' Tony swore, gazing at his monitor in pure annoyance. Once again the identical email sat in his in-box, addressed to him personally. He clicked on the letter to open it, knowing in advance what it would say. 'Some sick bastard,' he thought, rubbing his face vigorously. 'How the_ hell_ did he get my name, and why write to _me_?'

_Antonio Almeida_

_Special Agent in Charge_

_Counter Terrorist Unit_

_Los Angeles_

_You don't know me, but I know you. Today is the day I will set fire to an entire shopping center! Try to stop me! It's a real warm day!_

_Fire Bug_

He slammed his fist into the desk, pounding it in frustration, cursing himself for lack of any leads. The man had first written to him a fortnight ago, causing him to alert security in every shopping center around a hundred mile radius of LA. He had spent a terse day awaiting news of a fire, but it had passed uneventfully, as had the next thirteen, with the exception of the warning email. It had gotten to the stage where the heads of security at the shopping centers could be heard quietly sighing when he called them morning after morning urging them to remain vigilant as a threat existed. His sleep was disturbed and he would crawl out of bed around dawn to log on and wait for his email. Without fail it had appeared directly at 6:00 a.m. identical to all previous ones.

'Was the man some nutty attention seeker, or did he truly intend to carry out his threat?' Tony asked himself for the hundredth time, failing to come up with an answer. As was becoming his habit, he attempted to find where the email came from, once again coming up blank.

'Tony, you're up early again. Did you get another email?' Michelle questioned, appearing out of the bedroom.

He nodded, noting distractedly how incredible her hair looked falling uncombed around her face. 'Yeah. I'll break his neck when I catch him. I'm getting _so sick_ of this bastard!'

Michelle squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. 'Tony, let's get some breakfast. You can continue searching for clues at CTU. Forget him for a moment.'

He groaned aloud, following her to the kitchen cracking two eggs in a bowl. 'Sweetheart, that's just it. I can't forget about him! I haven't really slept for two weeks. I'll kill him for that once I get him – even if he hasn't lit anything!' He poured oil into the fry pan and made a few omelets, putting bread into the toaster.

'You've been a little preoccupied lately,' Michelle agreed gently. He flushed, knowing she was right. He had struggled with everyday tasks, too restless to focus on the TV with her in the evenings, too distracted to enjoy any time spent cuddled next to her. Obviously she had felt his lack of attention last night when he had drawn her into his arms.

'I'm sorry honey,' he apologized, taking out the toasts and placing more bread in the toaster. He joined her at the barstools, hugging her towards him. 'I'll try to leave it at work tonight, I promise. Why don't we go out somewhere special, just the two of us?'

'Sounds good,' she agreed, squeezing him tightly to her. 'I was beginning to think you weren't interested in me anymore!'

Tony's face turned redder. 'Honey that could never happen! It's just that no one's written to me like this before. I keep thinking about where he could know me from, I keep remembering everyone I ever met, and I still haven't got a clue!'

'What did the shrink say?' Michelle asked, knowing he had shown the criminal psychologist the email yesterday evening.

'He said it's a man, which I already knew, and that he seems to know me! And that he might well be serious, but he's having a little fun before he lights something. He's enjoying the attention. Once he gets tired of writing he might do it.'

'I think he'd like to be hunted,' Michelle said thoughtfully. They had been unusually preoccupied at CTU recently and she had little time for anonymous emails. 'Something about his last sentence has a clue in it, Tony, the piece about the weather.'

Tony nodded, eating his breakfast in deep concentration. 'Yeah. "It's a real warm day." I've already checked dozens of Days in LA, but none of them seem the sort.' He sighed heavily, pushing his plate away. 'I'll go dress now sweetheart.'

'Tony, what about the "warm" part?' she asked, washing the dishes rapidly.

Tony turned back from the bedroom, rubbing his face. 'You think I should check out some warm weather related words? I thought it was a signal about the heat of a fire. Sweetheart, you're worth more than the shrink.' He gave her another kiss and hurried to get dressed.

The primary word that entered his brain about warm weather was 'summer'. Tony sat at his desk in his office and called up a list of all people in California with the surname 'summer' finding few. None of them seemed remotely dangerous. He groaned again, staring at the screen. Idly he pressed the arrow to glimpse the next name. 'Summers' appeared on his screen, filling it with names and addresses.

'Summers' Tony muttered, knowing he had heard that name before somewhere, struggling to pin a first name to it and failing. 'That's unusual, Almeida. You don't normally forget names,' he chided himself. Grabbing his mug he sipped his coffee running through the list of all males, making a separate list for males between the ages of 18 and 48. He doubted whether anyone over that age would possibly be interested in burning buildings. If only he could remember Summers' first name he would save himself a lot of unnecessary work. How could he have forgotten?

He laid his mug down very suddenly as a thought occurred to him. He rarely forgot names, especially after hearing part of them. Summers was someone he had met in his adult life, and in a place where people went by surname alone. Relieved to find his memory functioning soundly he logged into the military data base looking for information on any Summers. A picture appeared on his screen which he peered at thoughtfully – young with close cropped hair. Very slowly his fists clenched. 'You bastard' he hissed, rubbing his face hard.

'_Where's your pass, private?' demanded an authoritative voice as he leaned against the phone booth listening carefully to his grandfather. 'Right now, private!' He'd hung up and turned to face an MP with an outstretched hand. 'Are you deaf?' Swallowing, he'd reached into his pocket and produced Halliday's pass, handing it over. 'You don't look like that could be your name,' stated the MP dubiously. He'd remained silent, waiting for the card. The MP shook his head and pocketed it, pointing to a wall. 'Stand there while I call your sergeant to verify Halliday's description.' He gave the reluctant Tony a firm push against a fence. 'Don't move.'_

'_Look, I wasn't causing any trouble. I just needed to call someone,' Tony said. The MP frowned and stared at him in silence. He removed the card from his pocket and examined it before holding it out._

'_Wait a minute,' said a cold voice, and a second MP appeared. 'What's going on here, Nicols? You're not letting that spic go, are you?' He took the card before Tony could reach it. 'Impersonating someone else is a crime, spic.' He pushed Tony roughly against the fence. 'You stole this card, didn't you, spic?' His eyes met Tony's, laughing at his outraged expression. 'You wanna say something, spic?'_

_Tony had drawn a deep breath, not daring to retaliate, having no wish to be sentenced to a spell in the stockade. The MP shoved him back against the fence, withdrawing a pair of handcuffs. 'You're in deep shit, spic.'_

'_Easy Summers,' warned the other MP, watching Summers slam Tony into the side of the truck. 'Let the captain deal with him.'_

Tony gave the picture one last stare and hurried down the stairs, stopping by Adam's desk. 'I need you to trace the whereabouts of this guy, Adam. Make it your top priority.'

Adam nodded and began the task, and Tony wandered over to Michelle. 'Sweetheart, I got his ID,' he said pleased. 'We got a meeting in five minutes, I'll tell you there.' He grabbed a glass of water aware of Michelle's eyes on him and sipped it, collecting his things for the meeting.

It was a small meeting that day, just Jack with his new partner Chase, Michelle and him. Jack gave a summary of Field Ops results for the previous week and promised to complete two forms to close the cases. He questioned Tony about his progress with the would be fire bug.

'I know who he is now,' Tony said, pleased, 'thanks to Michelle.' He paused to smile at her, noting her eyes shining into his.

Jack cleared his throat. 'If you two newly-weds could continue that at home,' he began.

'Sorry Jack,' he said, blushing. 'He's a guy I once met in the army – he was an MP and he busted me for being out with someone else's pass.'

A ripple of laughter filled the room. 'Go on Tony, don't stop,' Jack teased. 'We got a bit of time today.'

Tony frowned. 'The point is, he kept insulting me, waiting for me to hit him so he could send me to the stockade, and he slammed me into a truck a couple of dozen times. I warned him to stop, he'd regret it but he didn't. And after I got out of the hole I filled in an official complaint about him. It didn't stick coz I had no witnesses, none that would testify anyway, but I still filled it in and I guess he must have been spoken to coz he remembers me alright.'

'Do you think he's serious?' asked Jack, closing a folder.

'Hell Jack, do I look like a shrink to you?' snapped Tony. 'The only thing I know is that he sure enjoyed beating me up.' Michelle laid a hand on his arm, rubbing it gently. He sighed, glancing at Jack. 'Sorry.'

'Tony, find him and arrest him, for everyone's sake,' Michelle told him once they were alone. He nodded, fully intending to do so. Restlessly he paused before Adam's desk to check whether he had yet found an address, before wandering upstairs to his office. What he would really need, of course, would be a coffee, but with Michelle sitting directly below him he had no chance of getting himself one. He threw his mug a regretful glance before staring at his monitor. Another email waited for him.

_Antonio Almeida_

_Special Agent in Charge_

_CTU_

_Los Angeles_

_You're too late! My work has begun_

_Fire Bug_

Tony snatched up his phone. 'Adam, tell me we've got an address,' he snapped.

'Yes, and we got a workplace too. You might be interested to know he's head of security in a large shopping complex in Santa Barbara.'

Tony leapt to his feet. 'Thanks, Adam.' He snatched up the phone, calling the head of police in Santa Barbara, insisting they evacuate the complex immediately, before ordering CTU's helicopter to be prepared. Michelle wasn't at her station when he rushed down the stairs – he resolved to call her from the chopper. He left a message on her phone as to where he was going and settled back, willing the chopper to fly faster. Unable to settle, he called the head of police again, demanding to know how many officers he had sent to the complex and whether evacuation had begun. The man's answer infuriated him – a couple of units had been sent out, no they hadn't arrived yet, and no the complex wasn't evacuated. 'Get on with it, will you,' he snapped into the phone. 'This won't wait while you finish your lunch!'

He heard a slight pause on the other end of the line before someone swallowed something noiselessly. 'Mr. Almeida, I sent three units to the site, a site, let me remind you, where anything remotely suspicious has yet to be reported. We are also dealing with a dozen active cases, including a shooting. My units will arrive shortly. Goodbye!' Tony heard the phone laid down rather forcefully and a moment later an engaged signal sounded.

'Damn that idiot,' he cried, seeing the pilot grin at him. 'He thinks the whole world will stop for his lunch!'

'He's got to eat sometime, Mr. Almeida,' the pilot told him reasonably. 'As do I. I'll get something when we land.'

'No you won't!' Tony cried, seeing the pilot's startled expression. 'Sorry Barry, there's a nut inside who wants to burn the place to the ground.'

'Hell, sir, why won't you call the head of security?'

'He _is_ the head of security, dammit! Land a little way off, would you, I don't want him to see us. Where the hell are the police?'

The pilot circled the site, searching the area with Tony. 'There's no sign of them yet, sir. Shall I set us down?'

'Yeah, I'll go arrest him myself.' Tony climbed out of the helicopter, securing his rifle. 'Wait here, Barry.'

'Yes sir.' The pilot glanced at him. Tony nodded and set off, crossing a vacant block and stopping to allow a stream of traffic past. He hurried through the complex's car park, noting the amount of vehicles. The place was busy for a weekday lunchtime. A notice hung on the wall, advertising that week's incredible deals. "Back to School Specials".

'Oh God,' he breathed, starting to run to an entry. 'That's why it's so busy. It'll be full of mothers buying school stuff for their kids – full of kids!' He reached an entrance, expecting the glass doors to open for him. They remained stubbornly shut. Tony took a step backwards, wandering whether he had stepped over the sensor, and approached the entrance more slowly. The glass doors refused to budge. Dismayed, he glanced around, seeing no approaching police cars. He rushed round the complex to the next entry, finding it locked.

'Dammit,' he swore, pulling out his gun and firing into the glass. His bullet bounced back, ricocheting off the door. 'Maldito sea! It's bullet proof. How the hell can I get inside?'

* * *

'Stop it Almeida, stop now!' he ordered himself. 'You're _not_ going to think about fire while you're locked in here! You won't – you mustn't. It was enough getting through that once, you will not relive that one!'

He sighed heavily, attempting to pull himself back into the present. He rested his gaze on the bars, aware he would be filled with despair at their sight, but hoping he would fill his mind with a new image and forget going after Summers. Slowly he pulled his eyes from left to right, examining each bar in turn. They were completely identical, fitting together perfectly. Further down the corridor he heard his enraged neighbor pulling a shoe along his bars, hearing the clanging echoing through the area. He groaned in frustration. 'Looks like you got music now, Almeida!'

'Let me the hell out.' More clanging followed, while Tony shook his head.

'That silent punishment cell might not be such a bad idea after all! Hell, this guy is useless, we sounded better when we were tiny.' He closed his eyes again, remembering a large cast iron black gate in his grandmother's garden, seeing his mother strapping the little girls into their baby seats while he joyously pulled a stick along it, joined immediately by Janey and Marco. Clang clang clang. He grinned, remembering his mother rushing over to them horrified. 'Children, stop at once! Tony! This is abuela's house; don't even think of scratching that paint! Get into the car right now!'

Clang, Clang CLANG. Tony muttered several Spanish oaths, wishing the talkative guard would return and order silence, but he had patrolled recently and the corridor remained deserted. CLANG CLANG CLANG.

'Relax, Almeida, the guard will be back in about fifteen minutes. You can deal with any crap for that time! After all, you've had around twenty hours of total silence. At least you don't get to hear the dripping tap!'

Thinking of the tap made him turn to examine it, noting another drop forming and falling into the basin, followed almost immediately by another. He closed his eyes, fighting to remain calm. 'Relax, Almeida. You'll be outa here tomorrow morning, one way or the other.'


	56. Chapter Fifty Six

The inconspicuous fire exit door was locked, as he had known it would be. From the outside it lacked a handle, showing only an empty keyhole. Tony picked up a piece of wire from the ground and attempted to push it into the lock, determined to open it. Less than a quarter of an inch went in before it met resistance. He gently increased pressure against it, coming against a solid obstacle. It was definitely blocked with something. In desperation he pulled out his gun, firing a shot at the door carefully, expecting the bullet to rebound. It slammed against the door and ricocheted, hitting a nearby parked car. Tony chewed his lip in frustration. He would need to get inside and fast.

He ran into the undercover parking area as fast as he could, finding the doors locked from the outside as in the rest of the building. Faint screams reached his ears, the terrified yelling of trapped people aware of a life threatening danger. Filled with despair he glanced outside, not seeing any approaching help. He phoned the situation through to the same police captain, summoning the fire brigade, before staring rapidly round the car park. He rushed over to a large truck, forced its door open with his wire, climbed inside and hotwired it. Chewing his lip he drove it against one of the entrances at full speed, praying no one would be too close on the other side.

'Come on, let me in,' he breathed, swallowing as the truck slammed against the glass at over fifty miles per hour, shattering it to pieces and racing inside. Slightly shaken he opened the door and jumped out, grabbing his gun.

Inside it was pitch dark. He blinked, struggling to see anything beyond a fluorescent green "Exit" sign pointing back the way he had entered. Focusing on the area ahead of him still lit by the light of the exit he set off, listening for the sound of screaming.

'Where the hell is everyone? So many people can't just disappear.'

An electronics shop lay directly beyond the truck. Tony hurried inside, noting the latest gadgets on display on every shelf. 'Where the hell do you keep your torches, dammit?' he muttered, straining his eyes to see the back of the shop. A table lay near the back; he hurried to it and pulled out two torches. 'Please have a battery,' he begged, flicking the switch. He grinned in triumph as the torch shone a path ahead of him.

Leaving the shop he set off into the darkness the rest of the complex was in, listening for any sounds of screaming. Reaching an intersection he paused, hearing faint screams to his left. Tony set off rapidly following the sound, stopping a few feet further. A crackling sound filled his ears and he smelled smoke in the air. He shone his torch ahead, noting the smoke crept under a solid shutter which was pulled to the ground. The screams he had heard intensified.

'The people are trapped inside the department store, and it's locked and burning. You don't have much time, Almeida; you got to open that door now.' Once again he removed the wire from his pocket, pushing it inside the lock, twisting it carefully, and feeling for the resistance. He felt the lock move and slowly withdrew his wire, pushing the shutter up. It moved easily, and he shone his torch inside a smoke filled hall, coughing as he took his first breath. He removed his shirt and wrapped it round his face, shining his torch directly ahead, listening for any crackling.

"Someone help us please." "Please help, I got a baby." "Where's my son, oh God, where's my son?" He pushed through rows of items and made his way over to them, bending low to avoid the thicker part of the smoke.

'Ok, listen carefully. You work here?' he asked, noting a terrified shop assistant. Seeing her nod he handed her the torch. 'Take these people out of here now. Don't stop, just go, and keep to your right.'

'Where's my son? He's only seven years old,' sobbed a woman, pushing her way over to him. 'He was looking at some toys; I just went to get one thing…'

'Follow the others, I'll go get him,' Tony told her firmly. 'It's ok, I'm a federal agent, I'll find him. Look, it's real important you all go now,' he said loudly. 'Keep low to avoid the smoke and move. Where's the toy section?' he asked, grabbing the assistant.

'Down the back and to the right, you go through the shoes, the kids' clothes, and the books,' she explained.

'I'll bring him out,' Tony promised the terrified woman. 'What's his name?'

'Tommy,' she said, clutching his arm. 'You won't leave him, will you?'

He shook his head and set off with his own torch, deeper into the smoke. He was forced to crawl as the smoke thickened, his eyes stinging. His hand brushed against a shelf, pulling off a shoe. Tony paused to cough, following his perfect sense of direction. It seemed ages before he reached the clothes, bumping into rows of girls' dresses. The book section was filled with even thicker smoke, and his ears picked up the unmistakable sound of crackling. Biting his lip he crept forward as fast as he could, reaching the toys. A line of fire separated the toys from the books, burning along the isle. He stared at it for an instant before he jumped over it, landing against a shelf on the opposite end, banging his knee. Hissing in pain he rubbed it, unable to see anything through the black smoke.

'Tommy,' he called, coughing violently, unsurprised to receive no answer. If the child was still there he was certainly not conscious. Tony said a silent prayer to locate him before it was too late and set off, crawling along the isles, feeling his way along, unable to hear anything over the crackling of the flames. His hand brushed against a soft body somewhere along the third isle, and he stopped instantly, shining the torch onto the crumpled form of a child.

He lifted him carefully, knowing he had very little time before the entire area would catch fire. Reaching the larger isle, he noticed the flames had spread both ways, and they were higher. Longing to take a deep breath of fresh air he paused for a moment, settling the child more securely before he jumped over, stamping the flame from his shoe. His lungs cried out for air and he opened his mouth instinctively, filling them with smoke. He coughed violently, forced to lay the child on the floor for a moment. 'Pull yourself together, Almeida. Take the kid and go now – you'll get air outside.' Wrapping his shirt more securely around his mouth he picked up the boy and continued outside, ducking through the roller door gratefully. Now at least his torch would work better, and he would soon be outside.

A roaring filled his ears and he paused, startled to see flames race at him from further down the mall. Grabbing the child he raced for the exit, laying him carefully on the pavement before he sank down, gasping for air. The world swayed sickening round him as he leaned against the wall, unable to breathe fast enough to satisfy his tortured lungs.

'There's one more' a fire fighter yelled, and a medic appeared, bending over him. 'I'm fine,' he gasped, pointing behind him. 'Help the kid.'

'You stay there, I'll be right back,' the medic told him and carried the child away. Tony lay on the pavement for another minute before forcing himself up and setting off in the direction of the fire engines. He saw a man directing orders, and made his way over to him.

'Tony Almeida, CTU,' he said, pulling out his card. 'That place is an inferno. The roof's about to collapse. I haven't searched the right wing at all. There's bound to be more people inside, the ones that came out can't account for all these cars.'

'Mr. Almeida, I'm aware of the situation. The entire left wing is a fireball, if anyone was inside, they're remaining there. The fire's moving through the roof over the rest of the building, and every room is locked, my men are forced to break through with their axes. Whoever lit this fire was a pro. He also disabled the power and the sprinkler system. Go get some help, the ambulances are right over there.'

'Yeah,' Tony said, gazing back at the burning building. 'Aren't you even going to see whether anyone's alive in the left wing?'

'There's no point, Mr. Almeida,' said the fire chief, sounding slightly irritated. 'I'm stretched real thin on the ground, and we got to get to the side of the building where we can still hope to save a few people. My crew would take hours to enter that other wing. Trust me, even if someone was trapped in some room, the smoke would kill them before the fire would.' He turned away, barking orders into a radio.

Tony gazed at the ground for a moment, sick with the stench of smoke he was unable to expel from his lungs. The only sensible thing to do would be to go and get some oxygen from an ambulance and let the fire brigade take care of the inferno. A loud bang forced him to turn, in time to see part of the roof cave in. Distant shrieks reached his ears. He rubbed his face, turning back to the fire trucks, avoiding the chief. The second truck appeared temporarily deserted – he found the axe he was looking for without anyone questioning his presence.

Breathing slowly and deeply he made his way round the abandoned left wing, noting flames spreading through the roof. He walked past an emergency exit, pausing to listen. It was almost impossible to hear anything over the flames. Tony was unable to decide whether he really heard someone on the other side of the exit or whether he merely sensed their presence, but his training kicked in. Heeding his instincts he raised the axe and slammed it against the door a few times, breaking the lock. It was pushed open from the inside and a blast of hot air hit him, forcing him to step away. A group of injured people stumbled out, collapsing on the ground choking.

'Is there anyone else inside?' Tony demanded, shaking a middle aged man who appeared the most aware of his surroundings.

'Sure, there's a few a bit further back, but I can't go in there again.'

'You go to those fire trucks and tell the chief to send one here on the double,' Tony ordered, pulling the man to his feet. 'Move.' The man stumbled away and he wrapped his shirt tighter around his face, taking a last breath before stumbling inside. Hot air rushed against him, burning his skin as he forced himself forwards. Almost immediately his way was blocked by a rafter that took up the majority of the corridor. Tony felt his way over it, climbing through the smoldering wreckage. The corridor was reasonably clear for a while as he crawled along, struggling for air.

'Where the hell are those other people? Where's the damn fire truck? Easy Almeida, breathe slowly and listen real hard. They were supposed to be close behind the other lot.'

Gagging, he felt his way a little further. Another obstacle filled the corridor, leaving no space for him to crawl through. He paused for a second, listening, sure he could hear movement on the opposite side. Gasping for air he raised the axe and chopped up part of a rafter, clearing a hole he could crawl through. He stopped shocked halfway through, gagging.

A pile of bodies littered the area, most of them burned beyond recognition. The stench filled his nose and he sank down vomiting. There was no one left, no one alive, and a lot of the bodies were small. Tears stung his eyes and he turned away, prepared to begin his journey out.

'Help. Let us out. Please, someone, anyone…help.'

Tony moved forward, following the sound, unable to comprehend how anyone could have survived the carnage, but aware stranger things had happened during battles. He forced open a door that hung crookedly on its hinges and groped his way along, chopping through more pieces of rafters before reaching the source of the sound. Pushing a metal girder aside he pushed a door open, unable to read what was written on it due to the solid wall of smoke.

A group of terrified women and children gazed at him. He stared at them in silence for a minute, noting they had blocked the air vents with their clothes. All of them were wet, and a lot of the children had pieces of clothing in front of their faces. A grin split his face.

'You guys made it!'

'You gonna get us out?' demanded a woman. 'Where's the firemen?'

'They're round the other side of the building and yeah, I'm gonna get you all out, but we've got to move now. The whole roof is about to collapse. It's real bad out there,' he added, moving to a tap and pouring water on himself. He examined the group carefully, picking out a silent woman with an older child. 'I need you to come last. Keep everyone moving. Ok, let's go!'

He led the way, moving as fast as he thought they could follow, waiting while they all climbed through the hole he had made. Chewing his lip he glanced at the roof, praying it would hold for another couple of minutes.

Sudden movement caught his eye. Tony paused; staring in amazement at a man dressed in a white shirt and tie who appeared to have stepped in recently as his clothes showed no sign of dirt. 'Summers' he gasped. He took a few steps towards him, watching Summers back away down another dark corridor.

'Almeida. You were too late. Look at my fire. All these deaths are your fault, I warned you a month in advance!'

Tony took a step towards him, hearing the roof crack ominously. 'You really want to chase me, Almeida? I know this place like the back of my hand, I have my exits. You'll die in here – together with those people if you don't lead them out. What's it to be?' he taunted, watching Tony stop. 'Federal Agent Almeida couldn't leave civilians to die. Goodbye, agent.'

'I'll find you, Summers, however long it takes. There's no place I won't check. I'll get you,' Tony called, watching him backing further down the corridor, 'and I'll make sure you hang!'

He noticed the women and children coughing, struggling in the heat, heard another creak from the roof. Tony reluctantly turned his back on Summers, leading the way to the exit. Once they were through the hole he led them at a rapid pace through the burned areas until they reached the exit corridor, refusing to allow them time to gaze at the bodies. 'Keep moving,' he rasped, pushing several of them. 'Don't look. Now there's another tight squeeze, and then you're out.' He waited at the hole, pushing them through, handing over their children. 'Don't stop, get out. It's only a couple of feet now. Move!' He went last, forcing himself to keep moving until he reached the exit.

Several firemen stood around the door, pulling hoses inside. 'There's no one else anymore,' Tony said softly. 'I got them all. The roof's about to come down.'

'Mr. Almeida, what do you imagine you're doing?' snapped the fire chief. 'Why did you go back inside?'

'There were still a few people,' Tony managed to rasp, fighting for air.

'There's one more,' the chief said, pointing him out to a medic. 'Take him away, would you, before he gets himself killed!'

Tony found himself led away and laid into an ambulance. 'I'm fine,' he began, wandering why no one ever believed his assurances.

'Yes you are sir, I'll just give you a little oxygen to treat you for smoke inhalation, and look you over for burns,' replied the medic soothingly. 'Please keep the mask on, it'll help you.'

They removed a piece of broken glass that had managed to lodge itself inside his palm and several splinters and he was given another tetanus shot. 'Alright, Mr. Almeida, you're free to leave if you want to, though I recommend we tale you to a hospital for observation.'

'Thanks, but I got to go,' Tony said, pushing himself up gladly. 'The less time he spent in a hospital the better', he thought. He pulled out his phone and called the pilot, asking him to pick him up in the car park.

'Mr. Almeida, you'd better call your wife,' the pilot told him as he climbed in with difficulty. 'She's been calling every ten minutes asking for updates. I didn't even dare to tell her you went inside – I said you're too far away for me to see what you're doing.'

Tony grinned at him. 'Thanks, Barry, I owe you one.'

'Don't mention it sir. You planning to walk into CTU like that?' Tony glanced at his filthy clothes regretfully.

'Yeah, I'll change inside.' He called Adam before the chopper landed, asking him to divert Michelle's attention while he slipped in. Fortunately the locker room was deserted when he got inside. Tony pulled his clothes off rapidly, wincing as his shirt brushed against his sore hand. He stepped into the shower and switched on the cold water tap, taking care to keep his bandaged hand outside the water, closing his eyes.

"You were too late, Almeida!" "I'll find you, Summers, however long it takes." The water numbed him, removing the stench of charred flesh. He pushed his head further under, missing the sound of the door opening.

'Tony,' Michelle said softly, reaching a hand inside the shower and touching his face. 'You look bad. Tell me you didn't go inside that complex.'

Tony turned off the shower, smiling at her. 'Sweetheart, this is the men's locker room. What…'

'I came to look for you,' Michelle said firmly. 'Oh sweetheart, look at your clothes, they're black and burned. What happened to your hand?'

'Honey,' Tony began.

'No, don't tell me you're fine,' Michelle snapped, exasperated. 'You've been inside the complex! Why? You're not a fireman!'

Tony picked up a towel, drying himself gingerly. After a moment of watching in silence Michelle took it from him, patting his skin gently. 'I just can't trust you, can I honey? You're going to tell me there was no one else around.' She glanced at him searchingly, while he nodded.

'There really wasn't, sweetheart. I saved about fifty people today.' He chewed his lip, pulling on his spare shirt. 'I got to find Summers now, sweetheart. He'll do it again if I don't.'

He had found Summers three weeks later, having made it his top priority to keep up his search. Summers had been discovered in a cheap motel and Tony had gone with the SWAT team to arrest him. Back at CTU he had questioned the man vigorously, demanding to know who had supplied the materials involved in such a conflagration, calling Richards when the man refused to speak to him. "I'll kill you Almeida. You're a dead man," he had yelled in parting. Tony ignored that, having it heard it dozens of times before. "We'll meet again someday, and you'll regret it when we do!"

'We'll never meet again, you bastard,' he had replied, signing something for Michelle. 'You're going to prison for over 300 counts of murder. They'll never let you out again!' He had been wrong. Summers' lawyer pleaded insanity and gave examples of his deprived childhood, earning him a charge of manslaughter and a sentence of ten years. Tony had slammed his fist into the nearest wall when he heard the sentence. 'Bloody idiots. That man is no more insane than you or me! He's evil – that's different. Now he'll get out and do it again.'

It had taken Michelle the entire night to calm him down.

* * *

If there was a fire here you would burn inside this cell, just like those people so close to the entry on the other side of that barrier. No one would come for you. He felt his heart beating faster, and he rose uncomfortably. Once again he turned the tap on, running water over his face.

Clanging echoed through the corridor ceaselessly, occasionally quieting down a little leading him to hope the man was tiring of the noise, before an extra large bang would make him jump and it began again.

The door to the corridor opened and the talkative guard returned, banging his night stick against the bars. 'Stop that racket at once! I can hear that all the way out in reception! They're getting real sick of you out there!'

'Not as sick as I am in here!' Tony muttered, moving forward to watch the guard patrolling the other end of the corridor. 'He strangled his wife, did you say?' Tony inquired as the man passed.

The guard frowned and stopped. 'It's really none of your business, prisoner. How would you know anyway?'

'I heard you say so,' Tony answered. 'I wish she would've strangled him,' he added with deep feeling, earning a grin from the guard.

'Prisoner Almeida, go back to bed! It's almost a quarter to five – you should get some rest even if you can't sleep.'

Tony sighed. 'Yeah, you're right. Is "limbo" nosier than this place?' he questioned casually, longing to find out as much about the place as he could so he would be able to start preparing himself.

'Hell no,' exclaimed the guard, staring at him as though he were mad. 'Limbo is real quiet at night. The block supervisor won't tolerate any noise then. You wouldn't be wandering around the cell either. Prisoners go to bed at 9:00 p.m. and don't get up till six the next morning for any reason at all.'

Tony stared at him soberly, attempting to see how serious the guard was. 'What do they do all that time?' he questioned, chewing his lip.

'They pretend to sleep!' answered the guard, turning away. 'You should too, Almeida. It makes the morning come sooner.' Tony stared in silence after his retreating back.


	57. Chapter Fifty Seven

Tony rubbed his head, attempting to force the sleep from his eyes. He felt a strange pounding in his forehead, due to the lack of sleep over the past three days. Yet he had managed to get a couple of hours sleep towards the end of last night, he should be able to face the day. There was something important about this day, he knew that. He struggled to remember what it was. The bail hearing, of course! If he was extremely fortunate he would be allowed to return home in a couple of hours.

He heard his door banged loudly and sat up, seeing his breakfast in the slot. By now he knew he had to take it and eat it immediately so the empty tray would be in the slot waiting for the guard on his return. Slowly he climbed out of bed, going over to the tap to wash his face with the ice cold water. It worked to a certain extent, he felt awake enough to move to the slot and take his tray over to his bed. He ate the porridge first before it could get cold, noting that once again it was only lukewarm. Did they _ever_ bring hot porridge here, he wandered? He wished they would bring some other cereal instead as porridge was his least favorite imaginable breakfast. If they would let him out today the first thing he would do would be to go home and make himself a real breakfast with scrambled eggs and bacon. He licked his lips at the thought. His porridge tasted even less appealing than before. Tony forced himself to eat it, knowing he needed to be strong for his hearing. He was already exhausted; he didn't need to be hungry as well.

He drank his tea with his toast, gazing at his plate in dismay. Instead of the two toasts they had brought him yesterday morning he had only one. The one they had given him had a thin scraping of margarine on it round the middle. Where was his marmalade? Not that he liked it either, but it would be better than slightly burned toast by itself.

'Sonofabitch, that supervisor,' he muttered, remembering he was placed on reduced rations for twenty four hours. So far he'd had half a dinner and now about three quarters of a breakfast. He was really quite hungry and he'd finished his food! He picked up his mug and drank the last of the tea, swallowing down his painkiller and placing his tray back in the slot.

Tony lay back on his bed attempting to get a little more rest before they would come to collect him. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, not even hearing the guards returning for the tray. What seemed like minutes later he felt himself shaken hard. Blinking in bewilderment he saw six unfamiliar guards in his cell, glaring at him.

'Prisoner rise. Move to the back of the cell and face the wall!'

He gazed at their faces. A couple of them looked as though they would love to use their night sticks. He got up in a hurry and faced the wall, wandering what time it could be. It still seemed remarkably early. 'Hands behind your back,' ordered a guard, and he moved to comply, wandering where they could be taking him. At least the painkiller had taken effect, the throbbing in his neck and wrists had disappeared, leaving him light headed. He felt his legs being shackled in dismay, remembering that the photo still lay hidden in the blanket. What if they failed to return him here from wherever they were taking him?

'Prisoner, move.' They fell into step beside him and led him backwards down the corridor to the shower! Tony walked as steadily as he could in his chains, wandering why they were taking him back to the bathroom so soon. The steel doors were opened and he stepped through, waiting patiently for the last guard to lock them. The bathroom door was opened and once again the light came on automatically.

The bathroom was empty, looking much the same as when he had left it the previous night. This time his cuffs were not removed – he was left standing in the middle of the floor while a guard pulled a small bench away from the wall beside him. 'Prisoner, sit down!' Tony settled on the bench carefully, unable to help himself with his hands cuffed behind him. His cuffs were secured to a ring under the bench, forcing his hands tight against its edge.

'Thank God you took that painkiller a while ago, Almeida,' Tony thought. 'You'd be screaming like a baby by now.' He took a deep breath to calm down; wandering what was about to happen to him, hating his total lack of power over the situation. They could kill him now and he would be unable to move.

'Make any movement at all, prisoner, you won't go to your bail hearing,' threatened a guard. 'Also, you'll feel my night stick, and not just once!' He gave Tony a threatening glare to make sure he understood.

'Yes sir,' Tony said, watching the guard turn away and unlock a drawer. He pulled out a razor and some shaving cream. 'They're tidying me up for the hearing,' he thought in relief.

'I can do it myself,' he protested as the guard sprayed cream over his face. The guard paused immediately.

'Did anyone address you, prisoner?' He waited while Tony shook his head. 'Then I suggest you keep silent. Pre-trial prisoners are _never_ permitted razors!' He sprayed more cream on Tony and laid down the can. 'Now remember what I told you, prisoner.'

'Yes sir,' Tony agreed again, watching the man begin to shave him, feeling his face burn with humiliation. When would they treat him as a normal human being? Why wouldn't they allow him a few minutes alone in the bathroom to tidy himself up? After he was shaved another guard brought a bowl of water and his face was washed.

'What do you think, Jones? Will that pass?'

Another guard peered at him. 'Yes, it's fine.' He opened the drawer again and they put the razor away, pulling out a comb. Tony chewed his lip in disgust. The comb contained quite a bit of hair in it, of various colors. The guard approached him, intending to run it through his hair.

'Hey, wait a minute,' Tony protested, unable to keep silent. 'Aren't you gonna wash that thing first?'

The guards ignored him, reaching towards his hair. Tony pulled his head away at the last moment. 'No you don't! You clean it out first!' He glared at them.

'Prisoner, you're on report! Now keep still, or face the consequences,' snapped the guard, reaching towards his head again. Once again Tony moved, shaking his head.

'Just wash that thing, will you. It's filthy!' He noticed the guards glancing at each other before one moved behind him, raising his night stick. Tony gritted his teeth, prepared to feel another blow on his shoulders. Instead the stick struck his hands where they were held against the bench, striking his palms with full force. The painkiller was unable to numb the agony that spread through them. He heard himself scream, seeing only blackness in front of him. His head spun, he lurched forward. A guard pulled him up and another ran the comb through his hair.

The comb was replaced in the drawer and his cuffs were removed from the ring. 'Prisoner, rise! You were warned of the consequences of disobeying orders. Get up and face the wall.'

The world had steadied as Tony rose from the bench and stumbled across the room to face the wall. He waited nervously, terrified they would hit him again, but instead they moved the bench back to its position near the wall. 'Alright, prisoner, you're going back to your cell. Try anything at all, you'll regret it!'

Tony forced himself to raise his head and look straight ahead, waiting motionless while the steel door was unlocked. He followed the leading two guards down the corridor and waited again while they opened his cell. Once inside he moved to the back wall without being told and waited while they unfastened his cuffs. They left without a word. He waited until they locked his door before moving over to the corner.

He gazed at the ground for a few minutes, fighting to contain his rage. 'Keep silent, Almeida! They'll do whatever they want with you anyway – why fight it? There's too many of them, and they've got their rules, and they're not going to go out of their way to make things a little more tolerable for you. You're in cuffs, you can't move. Just relax and let them do whatever they plan to, and try and focus on something else.' He chewed his lip, taking deep breaths.

His hands burned. Reluctantly he examined them, dreading what he would find. The swelling had gone down a little by morning. Now it was more swollen than when he'd been released from the handcuffs. A long red stripe covered his entire palms. 'Sonofabitch,' he muttered, moving over to the tap. 'Bastard heard me complain to the doctor yesterday and deliberately hit my hands! If I _ever_ see him alone…' Gritting his teeth he placed both hands on the tap and turned it on, running ice cold water over his hands.

He allowed himself to feel furious, deciding it was preferable to feeling sorry for himself. His eyes roamed the cell restlessly while the water poured on his hands. There was something he had to take care of soon; he struggled to remember what it was. Ah yes, the photo! Leaving the tap running he moved across the cell to his bed, wiping a hand in the blanket, before picking up the picture. Michelle smiled at him, looking directly at him. 'I love you, sweetheart,' he whispered, wandering where he could hide the photo. They would search him, he was certain, and they would begin by patting him down. Bending down, he removed a shoe and sock and slid the picture beside his foot. He barely finished tying his lace when the guards returned.

They looked extremely annoyed to see the water running while he sat on his bed. 'Prisoner, you're wasting water! You're on report. Now turn that tap off at once and face the wall!'

Tony got up from the bed and walked over to the tap as slowly as he could, placing his hands underneath the water for an instant before turning it off. He moved over to the back wall, aware of the guards gathering annoyance. So he was on report again? It seemed like they walked past his cell solely to write him up for something! He faced the wall, hearing them enter the cell. Once again his hands were cuffed behind him, and his feet were cuffed securely, before he was ordered to turn around. 'Why the hell did they just remove my cuffs? These people are nuts!'

'Prisoner, move! The guards are armed. Any attempt at escape, they will shoot without warning.' They gave him a push to follow them. He blinked, confused. Why the warning? Where was he going? Where could he run to, except up and down the locked corridor? He followed them down the corridor, retracing his footsteps of two days before when he had first been locked up. 'Prisoner, halt.' He stopped, watching a guard run his access card through the slot. Movement in the neighboring cell caught his eye. He turned, watching last night's arrival moving to the bars, staring at him.

'You stare at me again, I'll break your neck,' threatened the man, pointing a finger at Tony. Tony turned the other way, not wishing to get involved in swapping insults. One of the guards banged his night stick on the cell. 'Shut up. Move to the back of your cell.' The door opened as he said that and Tony stepped through gladly. A long silent corridor loomed in front of him. Well, he knew where it ended up, in the main lobby. Excitement filled him as he stumbled after the guards. He could barely contain his impatience while they unlocked the second door.

The lobby was large, filled with guards. Medical lay to his left, and processing was directly ahead. The entrance lay along a passage between them. Despite himself his eyes moved that way. His heart beat faster. 'Prisoner, quit dreaming. Move!' snapped a guard, and he was turned away from the entrance and led further into the building. His heart sank. He had really been hoping he was being taken outdoors, to his hearing.

The guards unlocked another steel door identical to all the others that led from the lobby and he was ordered to step inside. Swallowing a lump in his throat he obeyed, moving down a brightly lit corridor filled with locked steel doors. A peephole sat at the top of each door, but he was led down the middle of the passage and was unable to see inside any of them. 'Prisoner, halt,' demanded a guard and he stopped immediately, watching him pull yet another card from his pocket and push open the door. He followed them in, seeing a tiled room with a table and two bolted down benches.

An unfamiliar golden haired man sat on a bench, an open briefcase in front of him. Tony was led to the bench opposite him and pushed down. A guard shackled his right leg to a ring on the bench and they left the room. A camera blinked at him from the top right hand corner. He gazed at it impassively.

The man opposite him stirred once the door was locked. 'Mr. Almeida?' he asked.

Tony forced his eyes from the camera. 'Yeah,' he said, watching the man fiddling with a pen.

'I'm Paul Sikorski – a defense attorney. My specialty lies in crimes against humanity, crimes against the state. I've taken three treason cases and won two of them. Have you got any questions so far?'

'Yeah,' Tony said, narrowing his eyes. 'Who hired you?' He knew for certain that such a lawyer would be totally out of his reach. His fees wouldn't be covered by everything Tony owned all together.

'John Patterson, your brother in law. He has a message for you. "Get through the trial, don't worry about anything else." Any further questions?'

Tony swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. This man was costing John a fortune, and whilst John had plenty of money, the great majority of it lay invested in his father's companies. John was using all available resources to help extricate him from the mess he found himself in. Anna's baby was due next month, they would need the money for other things. 'Look, Mr. Sikorski,' Tony began. 'I really appreciate his help, but I can't accept it. I'm sorry.'

The lawyer regarded him silently. 'Mr. Almeida, my fees for today have already been paid. Now we've got half an hour for me to run through a little of the hearing with you before I'm required in court.'

'I'm listening,' Tony said, placing his hands on the table. He wished his cuffs would have been removed. His eyes met the lawyers'.

'Quite honestly, Mr. Almeida, our chances of getting bail are negligible,' admitted the lawyer. 'You are accused of treason - intent to hurt the nation and/or the inhabitants of the said nation.' Tony squirmed in his seat, shaking his head. 'Now I read the documents pertaining to the case and I'm aware you acted under duress, but treason is nevertheless a capital crime.

I will argue that you acted under duress without the intention to harm anyone, that your only crime was neglecting your duties as a federal agent. Your entire family lives in the region – it makes you a low flight risk.' He shook his head. 'The judge won't buy it, I'm afraid. The prosecutor will argue that you have relatives in Mexico, that you've been there dozens of times and speak perfect Spanish and that if in fact you did flee, you would blend into the local population so perfectly we would have a problem locating you. That makes you a high flight risk. Add that to the strong possibility of your facing the death penalty, and you're stuck in here till the trial.' He shook his head at Tony.

'Quite frankly, Mr. Almeida, the sooner we can start concentrating on your defense the better.'

Tony swallowed, forcing all hope of being granted bail aside. 'Hell, even my own lawyer doubts I'll get it!' He raised his eyes to meet the man's. 'Do I have a chance of acquittal at my trial, Mr. Sikorski?'

The lawyer sighed heavily. 'A very slight possibility Mr. Almeida.' He shook his head.

Tony closed his eyes. In other words, he would be sentenced to long years in prison. 'How long will I get? Twenty years?' Hammond's words echoed in his ears. "With luck, the best you can hope for is twenty years." He opened his eyes and stared at the table, not daring to watch the lawyer's expression.

The lawyer sighed. 'Mr. Almeida, treason is a capital crime. It's taken very seriously regardless of who commits it or why, but in your case they will take it extra seriously. You're a federal agent; you had a sworn duty to protect the citizens of this country. Frankly speaking, we'll be doing well to avoid the death penalty. Anything beyond that is a bonus.'

'Yeah,' he said softly, feeling his insides knotting together. He had to force the air into his lungs. He was unable to raise his eyes. A wave of nausea took him.

'Mr. Almeida, I'm arguing today that you should not in fact be charged with treason at all, merely with neglecting your duties. I've already filed that appeal, it's the only reason there is in fact a bail hearing. Capital crimes do not have this option at all. Now I will call you to the stand and ask you how you felt when your wife was kidnapped. If we're extremely fortunate we'll get the treason charge dropped. Now here's a list of questions I will ask, and you'll find your answers typed underneath. You've got half an hour to memorize them. Have you any further questions before I leave?'

Tony nodded. 'If this doesn't work out, I'd like to see my wife for a few minutes. Could you please arrange that?'

His lawyer got up, gathering his papers back into the briefcase. 'I'll certainly try. Goodbye, Mr. Almeida, I'll see you in court in half an hour.'

'Thanks' Tony said softly, watching him knock on the door. The guards opened it and he left, nodding his head at the sheaves of papers he left on the table. Tony read the questions rapidly, memorizing his answers. He forced his exhaustion aside. His future depended on him answering well today.


	58. Chapter Fifty Eight

A strong wind blew through his hair as he stepped outside, bringing with it a smell of the ocean. He took deep breaths, attempting to fill his lungs with the clean air, opening his mouth a moment later to force yet more air inside him. Raising his eyes he saw the bright blue sky with a couple of cumulus clouds moving rapidly across it. His eyes blinked in the unaccustomed brightness. He turned his head, seeking the sun, permitting himself a brief glance. His eyes squeezed shut automatically before he turned his head and forced them open, watching the sky again.

'Prisoner, move!' snapped a guard, giving him a violent shove that required all his sense of balance to remain on his feet. He stumbled into the waiting armored van, hearing his chains clanging. They were not taking any chances with him, he could tell. Once again he was restrained with both hands and feet cuffed and both secured to a chain placed round his waist. His face burned at the thought of appearing before Michelle that way. Six guards settled in the van with him, securing his belt to two rings in the side of the van. One guard turned to face him.

'Prisoner, you are being transported to court. Any movement will be taken as an attempt to escape and the guards will shoot without warning. Is that perfectly clear?'

'Right,' Tony couldn't resist muttering. 'I'm just gonna step out of all these restraints!'

'You've been warned, prisoner. Any further comments you'll get to wear this gag.' He held up a gag for Tony to examine. He chewed his lip in fury, not daring to open his mouth. He could just imagine wearing it during the entire journey.

He was pulled out of the van and led into the courtroom through a back entrance surrounded by all six guards. Two of them held an arm each as he stumbled up the stairs and into a large parquet covered lobby. The ceiling was several storeys above him, and courtrooms led off from it on three sides. The fourth side was reserved for a large entrance with marble stairs and an imposing door. Tony swallowed a lump in his throat as he was led across the lobby in his chains, fighting to calm himself. 'Focus, Almeida! You've got a 99.9 percent chance of being returned to prison to await your trial. They can't do anything too bad to you now. Settle down immediately, Michelle is inside there!' He took a few deep breaths, noting his restraint caused a little attention among the people milling about in the lobby. He was led into a small room where his restraints were removed with the exception of his handcuffs. A guard warned him that a single unauthorized move would see them placed back on him immediately.

The door was pushed open by a uniformed court attendant and he straightened himself as he entered from the side, noticing three people in the audience seating. He swallowed hard as he searched their faces, noting his parents' red eyes. Michelle appeared calm but he knew her well enough to notice her obvious distress. Her face was pale, she wore extra make-up, and she twisted the ring round her finger restlessly. So he had been right, he thought with a sinking heart. She had indeed spent the previous day crying. Before he could notice anything else he was pushed firmly into a chair by a guard, who secured his ankle to its leg. Tony's face burned knowing this was watched by his family. He gave the guard a dirty look which the man seemed oblivious to. Two of them sat directly behind him, never taking their eyes from him. The door opened again and his lawyer hurried in.

'You ok, Mr. Almeida?' he asked. Tony nodded. 'Ok, the judge should be here directly.'

'I thought more people would be here,' Tony whispered. 'Some of my sisters, and John.'

'This is a closed court Mr. Almeida. Only your parents and wife are permitted to attend this hearing and only the final day of the subsequent trial.'

Tony opened his mouth to ask a further question but the arrival of the judge interrupted him. The door opened and two men hurried in. He turned to glance at them, noting the arrival of the prosecutor with Hammond. His heart sank. He suspected Hammond of being there merely to make certain he would be held until the trial. They slid into seats opposite him and the clerk tapped his gavel. 'All rise for the Honorable Justice Wilkins.' Tony rose with difficulty, his shackled leg making it awkward for him to stand. The judge bade them to be seated and everyone settled down.

He stole a glance at his family. His parents clasped each other's hands tightly. He saw his father whisper something to his mother and she leaned her head against his shoulder. Michelle sat beside them, eyeing Hammond wearily.

'I have a motion to dismiss the charge of treason against Antonio Almeida before me today, replacing it with a charge of failure to carry out his assigned duty. Let me remind the entire court, a charge of treason automatically negates the application of bail. We'll hear what you've got to say, Mr. Sikorski.'

Tony's lawyer got up, glancing at an open file. 'Your honor, my client was under duress during the events in question. He saw a video footage of some men holding a knife to his wife's throat and he had a couple of seconds to make a decision that would lead to her continued safety or her death. He chose her life, determined the entire time to catch Saunders. I would like to call my client to the stand, to demonstrate his lack of intent to harm anyone. He is not guilty of treason, merely of neglecting his duties.'

'You may call him,' the judge said, and a guard unshackled his leg and followed him to the witness stand. His heart beat faster as he faced his parents and Michelle, forcing his breathing to steady. 'State your name for the record.'

'Antonio Almeida,' Tony said firmly, his eyes on his family. He swore to tell the truth and the judge told the lawyer he could begin his questioning.

'Mr. Almeida, what position did you hold during the events of the day of the virus outbreak?' questioned his lawyer.

'Special Agent in Charge, CTU LA,' he said, watching his mother's face as she smiled at him.

'How long were you responsible for CTU?' continued his lawyer.

'Three years,' Tony replied.

'And how many terrorists were you responsible for apprehending during that time?'

'Hundreds of them – I don't remember exactly.'

'Can you name any of them for us?'

'Yeah,' he said, watching his parents and Michelle. 'There was a guy named Abdul who hijacked a tour boat and wanted to blow up a battleship; I caught him before he could do that.'

'So you were responsible for saving an entire battleship?'

'I guess so,' Tony replied, gazing into Michelle's eyes, reading the encouragement in them. 'I done it with Michelle.'

'Now you've been married two years,' the lawyer continued, glancing through his folder. 'Can you tell me how you felt when you saw the video feed with her kidnapped?'

Tony rubbed his face with his cuffed hands, gazing at the floor. 'I felt sick, like the world had just ended. He had her, and he was going to harm her unless I did as he asked immediately.'

'So you had two choices, either have Saunders captured immediately or save your wife?'

'There is always a third choice in my line of work, otherwise we'd run out of agents real soon. As far as is possible we attempt to save the agent and apprehend the suspect.' He noticed his parents drinking in his every word, realizing they had never seen him at work before, either in the marines or at CTU.

'Can you describe what measures you took to ensure the success of the third choice?' His lawyer gave him a small smile, so he was doing well so far.

Tony rubbed his face again, uneasy in the stand and relieved he had no curious audience. 'I had an analyst listen to his phone call, hoping to pinpoint his location. I also went fully armed, intending to capture him once the exchange had been made.'

'That's all, Mr. Almeida,' said his lawyer, turning to the judge. Tony swallowed, knowing he would be grilled by the prosecutor. He ordered himself to remain calm, glancing at Michelle, whose eyes glistened.

'Dammit, she's crying.' He gazed at her, drinking in her beauty, longing to leave the stand and rush into her arms.

'Mr. Almeida,' the prosecutor began, moving up to the stand. 'Did you have any idea how many men Saunders would bring to the exchange site?'

Tony gazed at the box, chewing his lip. 'Not exactly,' he admitted.

'Can you repeat that a little louder, so the court can hear it?' insisted the prosecutor. He repeated it louder, shifting his gaze to the door. 'So it could have been ten men, or twenty, or fifty, and you went alone. Did you imagine you could take down so many at once?'

Tony chewed his lip vigorously. 'Yeah,' he said firmly. 'I'm a sniper.'

'You _were_ a sniper, Mr. Almeida. Is it normal procedure for an agent to go alone into such a situation?'

Tony shifted his feet restlessly, hating the man. 'No,' he admitted softly, 'but the delicacy of the mission…'

'Just answer it simply, yes or no,' insisted the prosecutor.

'No,' he said, noticing Michelle staring at the ground.

'So you in fact risked the operation to ensure your wife's safety. Don't answer that, Mr. Almeida, its obvious! Now let's deal with your kidnapping Jane Saunders. Did you at any time doubt her importance as the only leverage over her father?'

'No,' he said softly.

'So you kidnapped her and were willing to return her to her father, losing any hold we had over him – a mass murderer prepared to kill tens of thousands more innocents? Did you at any stage question the young lady as to her wishes in the matter?'

'No,' he said, even softer. 'But her father would not have harmed her.'

'You seem certain of that, Mr. Almeida. Last time I looked, kidnapping was a federal offence. But why dwell on that matter, when you already lied to field ops, pulling them out of position to allow Saunders to escape?

'Your honor,' he said, turning to the judge, 'the defendant is in fact guilty of several counts of lying, deleting information, kidnapping and treason. We're not saying Antonio Almeida was a terrorist, that he would have intentionally harmed anyone – we're saying that he knowingly did so the moment his wife was threatened, fully aware of the likely outcome of those actions. The prosecution requests a trial to demonstrate the treasonous acts in greater detail.'

The judge gazed at the courtroom, while everyone waited in silence. 'I've made my decision,' he said eventually, while Tony's stomach sank. 'The prosecution has a sound case. The defendant will be tried for treason. Under the circumstances…'

'If your honor would allow a final word,' interrupted Sikorski, placing a reassuring hand on Tony's shoulder, who had been returned to his place and shackled to the chair, 'my client did not intentionally harm anyone, as we just heard from the prosecutor himself. Why not grant him bail until his trial? He's not exactly a flight risk.'

Tony noticed his parents and Michelle watched the judge hopefully, willing him to release him at least temporarily.

'Mr. Sikorski, you're aware that pretrial release and detention decisions are based on three factors 1) the seriousness of the offence committed 2) the defendant's criminal history and 3) the defendant's ties to the community. I'd be interested in your argument as to why bail should in fact be granted in this case.'

'Thank you, your honor,' began the lawyer, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder once again for an instant before moving away from his seat. 'Let me address the three issues. First, the offence is indeed serious, but my client was not in fact responsible for a single death. Secondly, he _has_ no previous criminal history, being a model citizen and a lieutenant in the marines. Finally, he has a tight knit family who all live in LA; no one can have closer ties to the community than him.'

'Your honor,' exclaimed Hammond, outraged, 'you're surely not considering…'

'Mr. Hammond,' began the prosecutor, waiting while Hammond settled back down. 'The prosecution requests the defendant be denied bail. His offence is the most serious one in the US, punishable by execution. It's hardly likely he would turn up at a trial to receive such a sentence. Also I'd like to clarify his family situation – true his parents and most of his siblings live in LA or San Francisco, but he has over twenty cousins in Mexico, five of whom we are unable to locate. Once Almeida would join them, it would require a massive man hunt to locate him, and our chances of success would be low. May I remind your honor of the Federal law regarding treason?'

The judge frowned at him. 'No you may not, I am perfectly aware of it myself! Under the circumstances I am compelled to deny the request of bail.' He glanced at Tony, who gazed at the ground, struggling with the concept of returning to prison. 'Does the prosecution have a particular time frame in mind for the trial?'

'Yes your honor, we do. We are already in possession of all the details of the defendant's treason; we would be prepared in a fortnight.'

'And the defense?' asked the judge. 'You might need a little longer. The US Government is keen to wrap up this entire episode and punish those responsible. As the prosecution is prepared, I will grant you six weeks to summon those witnesses you feel may be relevant to the defense.'

'It's barely sufficient, your honor,' remarked Sikorski. The judge frowned, refusing to change his opinion. 'Very well, your honor, I will prepare the defense. My client has a final request, as he is returning to the Federal Penitentiary and will be held incommunicado until the trail, he would like ten minutes to speak to his family here in the courtroom, shackled to the desk and supervised by his guards. I remind your honor that the defendant's wife is a Federal Agent who played an outstanding part in the entire episode.'

The judge glanced at Michelle, nodding reluctantly. 'Very well, Mr. Sikorski, he has five minutes.' He left the podium, everyone rising as he left the room.

Tony turned, watching Michelle race across the floor and into his arms. 'Sweetheart, you look awful, what did they do to you? Show me your hands, oh God, Tony, they tightened those cuffs into your flesh. What's that stripe on your hands, it looks fresh? How's your neck?' she cried in dismay.

Tony raised his cuffed hands, slipping them over her and allowing her to cuddle up to him. 'Honey, I'm fine,' he began. 'I guess I stepped outa line a couple of times.' He threw her a sheepish look, longing to run his hands through her hair. 'Don't worry, it won't happen again.'

'Tony, they won't be able to convict you,' Michelle whispered, tightening her grip on him. 'They just can't. Look at you, you've only been in custody for two days and you look awful.'

'Shush, honey,' he soothed her, kissing her hair. 'You know they'll convict me. Sweetheart, look at me. I want you to know that I love you, much much more than I can ever explain. Maybe I did wrong, I don't care. There's _no way_ I'd allow anyone to hurt you, ever!'

She raised a hand to wipe her eyes and he buried his face in her hair, breathing in her perfume and shampoo, unable to let her go. 'I love you too,' she whispered, her voice catching. 'I'll always be there for you. I'll…' she stopped, trembling, and he held her tighter. 'Your parents want to say something too,' she whispered finally, bending down to leave his arms, and stepping back.

Tony raised his head, noticing them waiting patiently a few steps away. He smiled at them, holding out his cuffed hands. 'Mom, papa.'

They hugged him tightly, his mother stroking his face. 'Tony, you don't look well. What are they doing to you?'

'Mom, I'm fine,' he told her gently, knowing she wouldn't believe him. 'Take care of Michelle for me, would you? Take her a little food sometimes, she works too hard.' His mother nodded, blinking away her tears.

'Papa, mom, I'm so sorry I let you down,' he began, glancing at them.

They spoke at once, interrupting him. 'No, Tony, you didn't let us down.' 'Tony, you protected Michelle, you done as you should have. I raised you that way, remember?'

He nodded; relieved to see their love for him hadn't changed.

'Oh God, Tony, first they took Justine, now you,' groaned his father as a guard got up. Michelle shook her head at him, asking for another minute. 'I can't let you go too.'

Tony frowned, puzzled, aware he had heard the name before.

'You don't remember her, do you? I thought maybe you might,' his father whispered, struggling to contain his tears.

'Marco, how could he? He wasn't quite two,' whispered his mother, holding him tightly.

Tony chewed his lip, nodding, remembering being lifted to admire a tiny baby wrapped in a pink blanket in a hospital, dropping his gift of a bear on top of her before a nurse entered the room and ordered his father to 'take that child out of the room now!' 'She wasn't really sleeping, was she?' he asked.

His father shook his head. 'No. She and Janey were exactly the same, only Justine…..'

'I'm ok, papa,' he said firmly, bending his aching fingers to stroke his father's hair. 'I'm just going back to prison, that's all! We'll get through these six weeks, then you can come see me.'

'Tony, take it,' his father said, slipping a hundred dollar note into his hand. 'Get some stuff, we weren't even allowed to give you your toothbrush or comb. Get something nice to eat.'

Tony shook his head regretfully. 'I'm sorry papa, I can't take it, they won't let me. I can't get anything nice anyway, I've got the hole for two weeks real soon, and it's pretty meager rations there.'

'Que?' exclaimed his father, startled.

'Someone insulted Michelle, I nearly strangled him,' he admitted quietly. 'I'll be fine.' A guard appeared, grabbing his shoulder firmly. 'I got to go. I love you all so much,' he said, hearing three voices assure him of their love for him as he was led through the door.

**THE END**

_Thanks for reading and reviewing. I'm planning to write another story about Tony's year in prison._


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